Twisted Shadows
by Lilac Papillon
Summary: A mysterious virus is falling upon Dragon City’s dragons, and Artha is put to the test as he tries to find out who, or what, is causing these strange sicknesses...
1. A Mysterious Incident

**Twisted Shadows**

**A/N:** Trying to go for a more serious style now. And yes, I'm making Artha more responsible now. If you have a problem with it, then I can't blame you, he may seem quite OOC throughout the series. Please read and review; I'd like some feedback on this…unless, of course, it's a pointless flame with no good reason of being posted.

**Disclaimer: **I said it before and I'll say it again. I don't own Dragon Booster, and this makes no profits.

* * *

Sounds. There were many sounds in Dragon City. The sound of traffic, horns blaring out and echoingthroughout the crowded Dragways. The sound of the humans talking, arguing about who had the better dragon or who had the better gear. The sound of the dragons, who grunted and groaned. The sound of a dragon's feet struggling to stay on his feet. The sound of that dragon hitting the ground. The sound, an unpleasant moan, escaping the dragon's lips.

The sound of a human crying out.

"Artha! Artha, Parm, something's wrong with Fracshun! Hurry, hurry!"

- - -

"I don't like emergency rooms," Kitt Wonn announced irritably. Her green eyes flickered angrily. "I hate them. People should know what an emergency really is instead of crowding in here thinking that their itsy bitsy booboo needs special caring!"

The nurse who was at the main desk frowned down at the teenage girl. "Miss Wonn, if you don't like our service, I suggest that you leave," the nurse told her. "Dragon City Medical is doing its best to help its patients, and if you don't like it, fine. It's your opinion."

"It's your opinion," Kitt mimicked in a squeaky voice. "Uh, if you haven't noticed already, we had a very sick dragon, and it was only a child!"

"We've had many child dragons in here these past few days," the nurse said firmly. "That dragon you brought in wasn't the only young dragon here today! I understand how upset you are, Miss Wonn, but please, quit complaining like a spoiled little girl. It isn't even your dragon."

The bipedal Magma-class dragon next to the seat Kitt sat in grunted. Wyldfyr lifted her head up as two white doors slid apart, and a four-legged dragon with gold eyes walked out, followed by a teenage boy wearing a white racing jacket. The side of the jacket had been charred, and on the back of the jacket was the name "Artha".

Kitt bolted upwards. "Well?" she asked, a bit impatiently. "What happened?"

Artha Penn groaned. "Not much," he said. "The doctors aren't sure what's wrong with him. And the thing is that Fracshun wasn't the only dragon that has the same problem! A lot of other dragons are coming down with his case too!"

"I think I noticed that when we waiting in the emergency room," Kitt replied dryly, ignoring the glance from the nurse.

"Kitt, you can't blame Dragon City Medical on what's happening!" Artha said. "Didn't you see how sick those dragons were?"

The blue-haired girl nodded grimly. "Still, Fracshun was younger than most of them," Kitt pointed out. "Couldn't they have taken care of him first?"

The gold-eyed dragon with a red and blue design grunted in approval and nodded his head. "We all wanted Fracshun to have been checked up as quickly, but things happen, Kitt," Artha tried explaining. "It's like what Mortis said, things in life aren't always fair."

Kitt opened her mouth, but she decided that it was pointless to argue. "Well, is he okay?" she asked.

"Kitt, I told you – " Artha started.

"I meant Lance," Kitt said.

They both looked up as the doors slid open again, and two boys, one a young man, still in his teenage years, and the other a child with red hair, stepped out, followed by a green Bull-class dragon with green eyes. The child's eyes were swollen and red, as though he'd been crying minutes ago. "It's okay, Lance," the teenager wearing blue next to him said, a gloved hand on the boy's shoulder. "Fracshun is going to be okay."

"How do you know?" Lance responded sadly, grasping his friend's hand tightly. "This has never happened before!"

"Well, I _am _the Professor," the boy's friend, Parmon Sean, murmured, and gave a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. The large, green dragon standing next to the two boys gave a grunt and shook his head. Parm sighed and walked up to Artha and Kitt. "They said that Fracshun will have to stay here until they can take care of the situation."

Artha walked up to his little brother and embraced him. "Lance, c'mon, I'll buy you some Draconee-Yum bars and then we can play some VIDDGames later on," he said, giving a smile. "How does that sound?"

Lance sniffed. "I just want to go home," he said, burying his head into Artha's shoulder. Kitt and Parm exchanged worried glances. Artha turned towards them with a nod of his head.

"Then let's go home, Lance," he said as the red and blue dragon walked over to him. "Beau?"

The dragon nodded, and pulsed with gold mag-energy as he magged the two brothers on.

- - -

Dragon Eyes were not known to be caring people. In fact, they were the Down City crew most known for their dangerous and deceptive ways. They kidnapped people. They stole objects of great worth. They even stole dragons. And every time Dragon City Security was informed about this, they would arrive at the scene of the crime only to find the scene empty of crimes. The deed was done, and Dragon City Security had a few questionable policies, such as how they left these crimes alone, unless it was "urgent" to the city, such as the mysterious case of sick dragons.

Even the Dragon Eyes knew about these cases. The fact that three of their dragons, crew dragons, each collapsed without warning that night. A man with a Dragon Eye tattoo on his head turned towards the young leader of the Dragon Eyes. "Moordryd, what's happening?" the man cried.

"How should I know, Cain?" the white-haired leader, Moordryd Paynn, responded. He turned towards Swayy, one of his crewmembers. "What's going on?"

"I dunno!" the green-haired woman replied shakily. "Rancydd and Malyss' dragons just collapsed as well! They're making these weird moaning sounds!"

"I can see that!" Moordryd said, and looked down at the Psi-class dragon that was moaning pitifully on the ground. The dragon had magenta and green patterns, and Moordryd suddenly noticed how the color was fading, what usually happened when a dragon's energy was being drained. He also took attention to the broken green ramming gear that Swayy's dragon had magged at a lamp post.

Cain bent down next to Swayy, who was at the side of her dragon as well, and looked up desperately at Moordryd. "Well, are we just gonna stay here and watch this little horror movie we're getting?" Cain yelled.

Moordryd looked down at the poor dragon, and exchanged a glance with his own Psi-class black draconium dragon, Decepshun. The black and purple colored dragon gave a whine and hereyes showed concern and worry. Moordryd turned back towards Swayy's dragon. He heard the rumors; a dragon from the Inner Order crew had collapsed, and Khatah's crew couldn't do anything about it. "We need Dragon City Medical over here as quick as possible," Moordryd said, pressing a button on his wrist-comm. "Now!"

- - -

Artha had let Lance get some rest when they had gotten back to Penn Stables. He was about to leave when Lance whined. "Lance?" Artha said, turning his head towards his little brother.

Lance blinked. "I can't sleep," he whispered. "Fracshun was always with me."

Beau grunted and walked over to where Lance lay down, then placed himself next to the boy and nuzzled Lance's head. "There, Beau will stay with you," Artha said. He gave a smile. "Now get some sleep, Lance."

Lance nodded slowly and closed his eyes. Artha mouthed a quick "thank you" to his dragon before heading outside. Kitt was brushing Wyldfyr. She was still upset about the situation their team was stuck in.

"Hey, Kitt?" Artha asked, approaching her. "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay," Kitt said, a bit coldly. Artha flinched. "Will you stop looking at me like that, stable boy? I'm fine."

"When you say 'okay' and 'fine' in that kind of tone, that probably means that you're definitely _not _okay," Artha replied, giving a sheepish grin. Kitt groaned and continued brushing Wyldfyr. "Kitt, ever since this afternoon I haven't seen you smile."

"Well, here's one just for you," Kitt said, curving her lips for a few seconds before turning back towards her dragon.

Artha sighed. "Kitt…" the blue-eyed man said, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "C'mon."

Kitt looked at Artha, and her scowl softened. "Stable boy…" she mumbled, tossing the brush into a bucket. "Fine, I'll try calming down. Where's Parm?"

"Well, since the doctors can't come up with a cure for Fracshun, he decided to find out what might be wrong with him," Artha explained. He walked over to the stall where Parm was, sitting at a desk and looking through medical VIDDZines and many books, calculating all this onto his VIDDComp, which he had borrowed from his mother.

"So?" Kitt said.

"Don't distract me, don't distract me," Parm said, lifting up a hand as his finger skimmed through one of the books. He groaned and banged his head down on his desk. "It's no use! I can't find any legitimate reason for the occurring of this odd sickness!

"C'mon, Parm, you're the brains of this group!" Artha said. "You gotta help us."

"I _am _helping!" Parm suddenly screamed, standing up and balling his fists. "I am always the one helping this group, and do I get any recognition for helping this group? No, I don't! Do you realize how difficult this is, even for me!"

He glared at a surprised Artha and Kitt, then groaned and sat down and placed his head in his hands. "Oh, forget it," he said. "I'm sorry, you guys."

"Hey, we understand, Professor," Kitt said, walking up to Parm.

"And we're sorry too," Artha said, placing a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Even if we can't understand a word you say, we appreciate all the stuff you do for us. Now, maybe we can help you out. What have you got for us?"

"Well," Parm said, looking at his VIDDComp. "I've researched all the sicknesses for dragons, and using what the doctors at the Dragon City Medical Center told me, applied the information to the researched data, then used manipulative methods to match up the possible diseases and viruses that match the data, but after comparing and contrasting each one with my information, I didn't find any matches."

Instead of rolling eyes at each other as they usually did, Artha and Kitt looked at the information on Parm's VIDDComp. "Well, this looks a bit easy to understand," Kitt murmured. "You're right, Parm, nothing seems to match any cases of what happened to Fracshun."

"Scales, this is complicated," Artha said. "Hey, have you found out _how _Fracshun just collapsed without warning?"

"Well, no," Parm said. "I don't think it was food poisoning, since all Fracshun ate today was a few Draconee-Yum bars and some dragon feed that the other dragons ate. And I don't think the case is contagious. Having faints and experiencing severe pain is not contagious for this matter."

"You have a point there," Kitt said. "You know who we need right now?"

"Mortis," the trio said in unison. If Parm was unfamiliar with anything at all, Mortis usually knew about that unfamiliar thing. The mysterious Dragon Priest had been helping them out ever since Artha became the Dragon Booster, a hero destined to save the world from chaos and destruction. He seemed familiar, but Artha just couldn't figure out why Mortis seemed that way…

His thoughts were interrupted by a yawn from Parm as he stretched out. "Well, maybe tomorrow," the brainy teenager mumbled, his eyelids drooping. "We should get some sleep."

Kitt looked up at the current moon in view, Drakkus. "Yeah, it is pretty late," she agreed. She hopped onto Wyldfyr.

"Wait!" Artha said. "You know, you can stay here for the night. Down City is a pretty long way, considering how late it is, as you said."

Kitt shrugged. "Nothing's gonna happen, Artha," she said. "I'll be at the racing track tomorrow morning, ready to compete in our next race." She smirked at the dark-haired leader of Penn Racing. "See you around, stable boy!"

Wyldfyr sprinted off into the darkness. Artha continued to stare off until he heard a loud snore. He turned to see Parm, his head resting on his desk. "Oh, Parm," Artha said, shaking his head with a smile. "I guess I should get some sleep too."

He was about to walk off when he heard beeping from Parm's wrist-comm. Artha pressed a button and found himself listening to the Dragon City news. "Reports claim that about forty-seven dragons these past few days have met this mysterious case," a lady reporter's voice announced. "These dragons, ranging from young to old, have been experiencing weakening and severe pain."

_Tell us something we don't know,_ the stable boy thought, rolling his eyes.

"Our recent cases this evening were two taxi dragons, a forty-year-old Sky-class dragon from Work Town, and three Psi-class dragons from the Down City Dragon Eyes crew, known for their dragon thefts," the reporter continued. At the last part Artha came to attention. The Dragon Eyes weren't known to have any medical problems.

_Drac, this is really serious,_ Artha thought. _Maybe I should see Mortis right now…_

Before he could do anything else, the reported finished off her report. "Dragon City Security is charging the Dragon Eyes for these thefts and other deeds, and speaking of thefts, there seems to be a bank heist happening at the Dragon City Bank right now," she said. "We are uncertain if the thief is a Dragon Eye or not."

Artha shut off Parm's wrist-comm and set it next to his friend. _Mortis can wait, and so can sleep, _Artha said to himself as he walked into the room where Lance slept. Beau looked up with a grunt. "We got to get busy, Beau!" Artha whispered. "C'mon, but be careful not to disturb Lance."

Beau nodded and stood up, walking quietly towards Artha. Artha jumped onto Beau's saddle as the dragon took off. There was a five-pointed star amulet hanging from Artha's neck, an amulet made of gold draconium. Artha removed the gold star off the amulet and looked down at another item of gold draconium, an armband with a small slot for the star.

Artha cried out, "Release the dragon!" and placed the star in the armband's slot.

**

* * *

**

**To Be Continued…**

**A/N: **Yes, I know, it was dull and the characters mayb be OOC. Hopefully things will liven up a bit in the next parts.


	2. A Confusing Clue

**Twisted Shadows**

**A/N:** I'm afraid I may use a couple of clichés in this story, so be warned if you don't like clichés.

**Edit: **Thank you, Sarah Frost; I though I fixed up that "thief/theif" mistake, huh…

* * *

"Stop right there, thief!"

Those were the words that came out of Captain Faier's mouth as his blue dragon lurched and turned a corner. They were chasing after a man riding a bipedal Magma-class dragon. Faier gritted his teeth and wished that the man had taken a Bull-class dragon to the theft instead. "I said stop!" he called again as the thief quickly turned another corner. Faier and his dragon continued their pursuit, Faier calling backup through his wrist-comm.

The man on the dragon gave a crooked grin. Up ahead was a dilapidated building, looking ready to crumble. All he needed to do was knock it down completely somehow for a roadblock…

He reached for a green ball. Pressing a button, he tossed it at the building and ducked as the dragon he rode on sprinted off. There was a deafening explosion, followed by the cry of a Dragon City Security officer, who was unfortunate to get caught underneath the rubble. The thief snickered and continued on. Victory was his!

He lurched to a halt in an empty alleyway. It would take some time for any of the Dragon City Security officers to catch up to him. Nobody could stop him now, and as long as that was the case, he was filthy rich.

There was a _thump_ from behind the theif's back, followed by a roar. He yelped and spun around to see – oh, Magna Draconis, no – a black and gold dragon, baring its teeth, and a man in blue and gold armor, with a dark visor covering his eyes.

The Dragon Booster grinned. "Dead end, buddy," he said, and pulled out a type of mag-staff – what was that, light green draconium? The thief wasn't sure; he never saw anything that was made out of light green draconium, except for deactivation gear and fet-lock breakers, but the Dragon Booster's weapon did look valuable…

"Dead end for you, you mean!" the thief cackled, and the Magma-class dragon he rode roared out as he pressed the pedals on his saddle. Green ramming gear was activated, and the man continued charging. The Dragon Booster and his dragon moved out of the way.

"You gotta be quicker than that, my friend," the Dragon Booster said. "Don't you think it's a bit stupid using attack gear for such a speedy dragon?"

Slamming the brakes, the man simply turned back around to face him and pressed a button. "You know what's stupid? You are!" he said as an attack ball flew out of his dragon's green gear. It whizzed towards the Dragon Booster, who swung his odd mag-staff at the attack ball, sending it flying back towards the thief. His dragon reared back, which shouldn't have been done, as the attack ball hit the dragon's ramming gear instead, denting it slightly as it rolled away. The thief inspected the gear, and while doing that he saw the shadow of the Dragon Booster and the dragon approaching him slowly…

When he jerked his head up quickly, the Dragon Booster was still in the same place as before. "Now, you wanna give up that money you stole, or do I need to use force?" he said, twirling his weapon.

There was a shriek from the thief's dragon, and the thief was thrown off. The dragon was shaking its head violently. It mag-blasted the gear off and continued shrieking. "Wh-what's happening?" the thief cried. He turned towards the Dragon Booster. "What did you do to it?"

The dragon fell down and gave a distressed cry, claws clenched and feet twitching. It squirmed uncomfortably. The Dragon Booster's dragon gave a startled grunt and stepped forward. "Beau!" the Dragon Booster said. "What's going on?"

At that moment sirens wailed out as Captain Faier and the other Dragon City Security officers arrived. Captain Faier saw the thief, and opened his mouth only for words to be lost as his eyes found the dragon lying on the ground in pain. "Another of these cases!" Faier gasped. "Quickly! Get that dragon to Dragon City Medical!"

Faier turned towards the Dragon Booster and the thief. "You, however, are staying here," he ordered.

- - -

"It was _his _fault!" the thief was saying, pointing an accusing finger at the Dragon Booster. _"He _caused my dragon to get sick! _He _started it!"

"Wasn't there a little code of the Dragon City Security?" the Dragon Booster drawled. "Like 'you have the right to remain silent'?"

Beau started laughing, making the thief more irritated.

"But after _you_ attacked me, my dragon started acting weirdly!" he argued.

"Enough!" Faier barked. "You are under arrest for bank heist and dragon theft."

"Huh, so that dragon wasn't even yours?" the Dragon Booster asked, turning towards the thief, who glowered at the city's hero as two officers cuffed his hands and escorted him away. But Artha was wondering if the thief was right. Was it his fault that the dragon got sick? He stared at his jakk-stick. Stewardd of the Keepers crew had forged it for him, but it didn't seem as though the jakk-stick had any problems or bugs.

Faier turned towards Artha. "Dragon Booster, we thank you for keeping the city safe once again," he said. "But I wonder, how did the dragon break down?"

"Honestly, Captain Faier, I don't know," Artha replied. He looked at Beau, who shook his head. He held out his jakk-stick for the captain to inspect. "After he attacked me with green ramming gear, I hit the attack ball back, and the dragon's gear got hit. But I'm sure the dragon couldn't have gotten all that with a simple retaliation!"

Faier ran a hand through Artha's jakk-stick. He beckoned a Dragon City Security officer to come over. "Officer, I require a task from you," Faier said. "Inspect this…this…"

"Jakk-stick," Artha explained for him. "Light green draconium and VIDDJakk boxes merged together."

"Hmm, VIDDJakks…" Faier murmured thoughtfully. "Where did you manage to get VIDDJakk boxes? Well, no matter, at least they're being used for good use."

"Yeah, I guess so," Artha said. Word had used VIDDJakks on Artha and Beau once, and Parm had found them.

_So, wait, _Artha thought suddenly. _VIDDJacks can cause other technology in range to malfunction, and it can do other harmful things. But I didn't shoot out the VIDDJakks at that guy's gear, and I doubt it can hurt dragons _that _much!_

"Your jakk-stick, Dragon Booster," Faier said, giving the weapon back to Artha. He shook his head. "The VIDDJakks are questionable, but do you really think that they would do something to a dragon that bad?"

"I doubt it, sir," Artha replied. "Just what I was thinking."

Faier looked over at the green ramming gear and the attack ball lying on the ground. "Perhaps I should run an investigation through those too," he said. He looked back at Artha. "You know, these past few days, most of the dragons getting infected were using green ramming gear of all levels and brands. Maybe there's a connection between the gear and these strange events?"

Artha nodded. "You know, I'll bet there is," he said, and he and Beau ran off.

- - -

"Artha? Artha?"

Artha mumbled. "What?" Lance asked.

"I said ten more minutes, Lance," Artha repeated groggily. "Or maybe even a day?"

Lance shook his head with a grin and started poking Artha's shoulder repeatedly. Artha smacked his brother's hand away. Lance simply responded by pushing Artha off the table he fell asleep on.

"Ow," Artha simply mumbled.

"Artha, it's almost noon!" Lance said, pointing at his watch.

"So?" Artha murmured drowsily, his eyes open halfway. "I wanna sleep."

Lance shrugged and simply walked away. Beau grunted and began nudging Artha with his head. "Beau, stop it, I'm tired," Artha groaned. "I wanna sleep."

A pair of teal, yellow and purple shoes appeared in front of his face. "What, didn't get enough sleep last night, stable boy?" Kitt's voice taunted. "C'mon, up and at 'em, Artha!"

Artha shifted his eyes upwards, seeing Kitt's face, her multicolored hair, her green eyes, and her smirk. "You're all cruel," he sighed as he grabbed Beau and stood up. "If only you've known what I've been through."

"We heard the news," Kitt said. "So, another dragon acting up?"

"Yep," Artha responded, blinking. "So I must've fallen asleep on the table."

"Why didn't you just go to bed?" Kitt asked.

"I had to think," Artha said. "Thinking is better sitting down."

"Walking around helps you think," Kitt pointed out.

"Yeah, but unless you wanted to wake up on the ground with a couple of bruises, you'd sit down," Artha replied with a wry grin.

Kitt rolled her eyes with a smirk and walked away. Artha followed her and saw Parm on the VIDDComp. Lance was busy chewing a Draconee-Yum bar, staring at the screen. "Hey, Lance," Artha said. "You okay?"

Lance nodded. "I guess," Lance said. His face fell. "I hope Fracshun's okay."

"He'll be fine, Lance, don't worry," Artha said. He looked up at Parm. "Well, Professor?" he said.

"Well, nothing!" Parm groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "I've got no results at all! One thing I do know is that it may be a virus!"

"A virus?" Kitt asked.

"Yes!" Parm said. "Well, not really the proper term, not contagious exactly, but any dragon, healthy or unhealthy, old or young, strong or weak, speedy or slow, can get this! At least, that's my prediction."

Artha remembered Captain Faier and the mention of green ramming gear. "Parm, Faier said this morning that most of the dragons that got infected used green ramming gear!" he implied.

"Really?" Parm said, his eyes widening.

"Oh yeah. The thief I chased after yesterday was using green ramming gear, and the dragon he used was struck down by the virus. Faier said that there might be a connection between the gear and the virus."

"Hmm, very interesting…" Parm said. He shuddered. "Very horrifying! What type of gear? Saurcom?" He gasped. "Paynn Incorporated? What level was the gear?"

"I'm not sure, Parm," Artha said. "But Captain Faier claimed that it was _all _types of green ramming gear!"

"But how can dragons get a virus from gear?" Lance asked, confusion written all over his face.

"That is the complicated part," Parm said. "Unfortunately I can't unravel how that'll happen, unless I have some of that gear. Then hopefully I can find out if, how, and why the gear infects dragons."

He suddenly yelped. "What if _our _green ramming gear is infected?" he cried.

"Then we gotta take it here and find out!" Kitt said. "Lance, run and get the gear from the mag-racks!"

"Got it!" Lance said, and ran off. As he ran to the room where the mag-racks were, he wondered what gear he had placed on Fracshun and if the gear was green ramming gear. He groaned in dismay. Unfortunately, Lance's memory wasn't that good at the time, so he couldn't remember well. He looked up at the green ramming gear placed on the mag-racks and jumped a couple of times, trying to grab it.

A hand reached over and took the green gear from the mag-rack. Lance looked in surprise at a man wearing green Dragon Priest armor and a mask standing there. "Mortis!" Lance said.

Mortis gave a small smile. "Here, Lance," he said, bending down and giving the gear to the boy. "So, I see that you, your friends and your brother are trying to solve a problem?"

"Yep!" Lance said, looking up at the Dragon Priest. "Do you know what's happening, Mortis?"

Mortis shook his head gravely as he stood up. "I'm afraid not," he murmured. "Even this problem puzzles me."

Lance's face fell. "But don't worry, Lance," Mortis said. "I'm still trying to find out what's wrong with the dragons. If only I had the gold draconium. One bet I have, though, is that this isn't the work of malfunctioning gear."

"But Mortis, who would _do _something like this to all those dragons?" Lance asked. "And Fracshun? Who'd be cruel enough to do something like this?"

Mortis stared down at Lance for some time, then placed a hand on Lance's shoulder. "You know, Lance, you have the wisdom of a Dragon Priest," Mortis told him. "Not that many children of your age are as wise as you."

Lance blinked. "I'm _wise?" _he said.

Mortis smiled. "You may not realize it, but you do have wisdom," he said. "As for your question, I'm afraid that there are people out there that are that cruel, that don't care."

"But _why?"_ Lance wanted to know.

Mortis frowned. "Alas, that question I don't have the proper answer for," he said.

Lance sighed. "I miss Fracshun," the boy said.

"I know."

"And I miss my dad."

Mortis paused. "I know, Lance, I know," he said. He turned around. "Once you and Artha find out what may be causing the virus, come to the Dragon Temple and I may be able to help you." And with that he walked away, back to the room containing the entrance to the Dragon Temple hidden below Penn Stables.

Lance continued staring at where Mortis had been, until Parm's voice called, "Lance, the gear?"

"Coming, Parm!" Lance called back, and ran back for his friends with the gear in his hands.

**

* * *

**

**To Be Continued…**

**Crazy person:** Thanks, and yes, Artha's being responsible. Really, if a madman was trying to steal your dragon and kill you by attacking you with all sorts of ingenious plans and whatnots, I wouldn't be slacking off as much as Artha was. ;)

**Kereea:** Thanks, and yes, Fracshun. Somehow I think I was cruel for the impact of a young dragon…

**Laura the Infamous B:** Yes, thank you, I do realize the story does seem a bit stiff and "Huh?" at some times. And yeah, Artha seems to be maturing, but very slowly.


	3. A New Plan

**Twisted Shadows**

**A/N: **Yes, I still support A/K, no matter how much P/K tension there actually is in the show. I think I rushed this chapter.

* * *

Parm watched as Lance ran back into the room, green ramming gear in hand. He took the gear from the boy and began inspecting it. "Hmm, doesn't seem like there's any problems, but that's just from outer view," Parm murmured, picking the gear up and grabbing one of his gadgets. "I'll run a scan on this…in the meantime, you guys can do something else…"

As Artha, Kitt, Beau, Wyldfyr and Lance walked outside, Lance grinned at Artha and Kitt. "Mortis says I'm wise," he boasted.

Kitt rolled her eyes. "That's true, you're like Mortis," she mused. She gave a wicked grin. "Mini-Mortis!"

"The tiny Dragon Priest!" Artha added, both of the teenagers bursting out laughing. Beau and Wyldfyr chuckled.

Lance huffed and folded his arms. "Girls and big brothers," he muttered. "Why do they always act so weird?"

He looked around. Usually Fracshun answered the question with a grunt, but now he wasn't here. Lance's expression turned glum, then he shifted his eyes on Artha and Kitt, who were still laughing. He decided to retaliate…

"Artha and Ki-itt, sitting in a tree!" Lance began chanted. "K – I – "

"Okay, Mini-Mortis, we'll stop," Kitt retorted. Lance had his own laugh as he walked away to find his Battleground Dragon VIDDGame. Beau and Wyldfyr exchanged glances, then grinned at Artha and Kitt.

"What?" Kitt asked. "What are you staring at us like _that _for?"

They burst out laughing as they followed Lance. Kitt scoffed as she stared at the laughing dragons. "Dumb dragons," she muttered.

Artha nodded with a grin. "Lance can be a real pain sometimes," he sighed, his gaze shifting towards Kitt. It was all so weird; ever since Artha laid eyes on her, he had taken a huge infatuation with the street racer, but then it never really lasted, _thanks to Lance and his big mouth, _Artha thought. Still, that didn't excuse them from being friends…or maybe even more…

"Artha?"

"Huh?" Artha said, coming back to reality. He blinked at Kitt. "Uh, Kitt! Right! Hey, you wanna see what Mortis is doing?"

Kitt nodded. "We got nothing else to do besides wait for the results from Professor," she said.

- - -

Mortis' attention had been taken off the problematic situation and onto what he liked to study in his spare time: scrolls and ancient legends. They taught him many things, as what he was taught in the Ancient Order…

He looked up. His mind went distant as he remembered the Ancient Order, the Dragon Priests, his mentor Tannis the Wise, and Word Paynn…

Word was once his best friend, but his ideas weren't always the right ideas. Mortis remembered when they caught him using dragon control gear. For this, Word had been banished from the Order. Perhaps it didn't seem fair…

_Justice needs to be served rightfully, _Mortis thought, remembering what Tannis had told him. He looked through his documents and found teachings of the original Dragon Booster, and how he fought Drakkus, an ancient enemy to the Dragon Booster and his dragon, Beaucephalis, the original black and gold star-dragon of legend. He read about the great human-dragon empires, about the Furox and the Samurox and the other fighter dragons, about Drakkus' followers, such as Reaffo Thade, the cruel traitor of both sides, and Gary the Lethal, who was the swiftest with any weapon…

Mortis looked up to see Artha and Kitt walk out from the express elevator. "Good, you're here," Mortis said. "Have you found out what we're looking for?"

"No good, Mortis," Artha said, shaking his head. "Though Parm's working on it right now. Got any idea who could've caused this all?"

"I'm afraid not," Mortis replied. "But you should keep looking for clues, Artha. It will help you discover who is behind this."

Kitt was looming over Mortis' shoulder now. "What are these documents?" she asked, looking down at the faded pages, which seemed to glow. Artha came over and looked over the ancient legends as well.

"This is a story about the original Dragon Booster, fighting those who threatened the world," Mortis explained. Artha, even more interested now, began skimming through the draconian text. "In that time, things were very horrible."

"Horrible?" Artha repeated, looking up.

Mortis nodded. "You would have to experience that time to truly know how horrible it was," he said. "So many people and dragons, dying…so much destruction, everywhere…"

"Sounds like a really nice time," Kitt commented dryly. "Maybe I should tell Parm to build a time machineso we cantake a vacation there."

Mortis didn't retort to her sarcastic comment. Instead, he looked away thoughtfully. "The reports are still getting dragon cases with the mysterious sickness," he murmured. "It seems to be getting worse. You must find out who is causing this, Dragon Booster!"

"Oh, don't worry, Mortis, I will," Artha said, grimacing. "We all will, otherwise, who knows what will happen?"

- - -

"Done yet?"

The Dragon Eye wearing a dull yellow, teal and maroon outfit looked up at Moordryd. "Doesn't seem like there's anything wrong with Decepshun's gear, Moordryd," Blarre said, handing him back the gear.

"You sure, Blarre?" Moordryd asked.

"I'm only the weapons specialist," Blarre pointed out. "See how the technician's doing."

Moordryd turned towards a man wearing black, purple and gray and a visor with goggles. "Vizz?" he asked.

"Hold up, still checking…" the green-haired man mumbled, a scanner in his hand. He looked up at Moordryd and shook his head. "The gear's functioning fine…no bugs, in good shape, though there _is _something interesting about Swayy's gear."

"Go on…" Moordryd said.

Vizz adjusted his goggles. "Well, it seems like something's come up with it," he explained. "I'm not sure exactly what, but it's a bug, one I've never seen before."

"A bug in the gear?" Moordryd asked. "Tell me again _how _a dragon can possibly get infected by a bug in gear."

"See, that's the interesting thing," Vizz said. "Gear starts functioning from the dragon's mag-energy. Once the dragon's energy is channeled through the gear, it either functions properly or improperly. If the gear runs smoothly, all's good, but once it starts malfunctioning, then we have a problem." He looked at Blarre. "Though doesn't the malfunctioning of forged draconium objects only effect the gear or weapon?"

"Not quite," Moordryd answered. "If black control gear is tampered with, it can effect the wearer as well."

"We're talking green draconium, though, not black," Blarre said. "Unless, of course, the black draconium was fitted into the gear somehow, but I doubt it…unless your father's pulled a trick out of his sleeve."

Moordryd glared at her. "It's not just my father's gear; we've got brands from Saurcom to the homemade gear," he said. "Now the popularity of green ramming gear being bought is decreasing."

"And those people selling the gear aren't too happy," Cain said, walking into the room with a frown. "Dragon City Security is _everywhere _now,Moordryd! Do you know what this means?"

"Limited and thought-out dragon thefts," Blarre muttered.

"Eyes watching our every move," Vizz said.

Moordryd groaned. "We're not losing hope just because a couple of dragons – "

"Translate to 'one hundred'," Cain drawled.

"What?" Moordryd gasped, turning towards his friend.

"Of all people, I was sure you'd be the first to know how serious this is!" Cain told him. "We're in trouble."

There was a beeping on Moordryd's wrist-comm, and Moordryd took a glance at it. He pressed a button, and it stopped beeping. "I'll be back," he said, walking out. "Cain, take control. Vizz, Blarre, keep investigating the other gears."

"Where are you going?" Blarre asked.

Moordryd turned his head to face her, and already all of them knew the answer. "Paynn Incorporated," he said. "My father wants me."

- - -

Word was not very happy. In fact, Word Paynn was not usually happy at all. At times like these, however, he was more interested than pleased. He turned towards Moordryd in his large control room.

"So I hear that several of your crew's dragons have suffered under this very interesting case," Word said.

Moordryd simply nodded. The tall figure paced around the control room, turning towards his large monitors. "Moordryd, do you have any idea what is happening?" Word asked.

"Well, according to Dragon City reports, apparently dragons are coming down with a weird bug or virus of some sort," Moordryd replied, folding his arms. "And later, they said something about green ramming gear being the cause of the infection."

Word narrowed his eyes. "True…but do you _know _what causes this infection?" he asked. He pressed a button on his control panel, and screens of many dragons suffering the same way as Swayy's dragon had appeared on each of Word's monitors. As Moordryd looked at each one, a wave of pity swept over him, but he quickly shook off the feeling as Word turned his head towards him.

"These problems are not just the malfunctioning of the green ramming gear, Moordryd. That logic seems ridiculous. It seems to me as if _someone _is responsible for this."

"Huh? How?"

"Either someone can implant this virus into the gear using a high amount of technology, or…" Word's voice trailed off.

"What?" Moordryd demanded. He winced as Word shot him a cold glare.

"I'm not exactly sure, but once we find out who is the cause of all this, I want you to bring him to me," Word said. He gave a sinister grin and clasped his fingers, the dragon claws set on his right hand clacking. "With him, I may be able to negotiate an agreement with him, or her, to help me start a dragonhuman war."

"By making dragons sick?" Moordryd said.

Another icy glare. "I'm running out of ideas, Moordryd. I cannot constantly have my plans thwarted by that pest, the Dragon Booster, and it seems as though he too is inpuzzlement of this problem." Word turned back to his monitors, and Moordryd could barely detect the bit of regret in Word's voice. "This may be our only hope. Nothing else will work to its full extent."

"What about– ?" Moordryd started, his eyes widening, but he stopped and looked away. Word's eyes, gray as his son's, shifted towards him.

"Yes?" he asked, slightly irritated.

Moordryd let his shoulders sag and looked up dejectedly at his father. "Never mind," he mumbled.

"Go on, I'm interested to hear what you need to say," Word said, staring at his son suspiciously. Moordryd sighed. "Well?"

"What about Dragon City Security?" Moordryd questioned.

Word frowned. "Dragon City Security will need to be avoided as much as possible," he answered. "To attract this person's attention, you will need to continue what I ask of you."

"B-but – " Moordryd stammered, but Word raised a finger.

"Do not question me, Moordryd," Word said, and it was clear that the discussion would end with him having the last word. "Just because we have one plan doesn't mean we can continue working on our other plans. I will still need wraith dragons and other things in case anything should go wrong. Now go."

As Moordryd exited the large building and hopped onto Decepshun, he gritted his teeth in frustration. "What about _me?" _he hissed, his chance to correct his earlier statement lost as Decepshun sprinted off back to Down City.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

**Sarah Frost:** Your concrit is always what saves me, Sarah. Thanks, and yeah, I did get the feeling "virus" was not the proper term…and you're right, Lance did get a bit too much credit for just one line, but then when I was typing it out I thought maybe Mortis already noticed his wisdom or something…huh…

**Kereea: **Yep, green gear, but not all green gear. As you can see, however, people aren't buying much anymore, in fear of what may happen, so this means bad news for business…


	4. A Shocking Addition

**Twisted Shadows**

**A/N: **Too short…I think it's too short…

* * *

Parm fiddled around with the green gear in his hand, checking his scanner with the other. "Huh, very interesting, very interesting indeed…" he murmured. Cyrano looked over Parm's shoulder at all the information reading on the scanner, and he simply stared at it before stepping away. He'd let his more smarter partner do the complicated stuff; after all, a dragon like him won't work unless needed, and besides, he didn't understand Parm's large words of scientific proportions.

Parm spoke to himself under his breath as he punched in a few numbers on the scanner, and it beeped a couple of times before he pressed a button to make it stop. He looked at the scanner's screen, gave a sigh of relief, and looked up to see Lance, Artha and Kitt. "Well, all's good with this gear, and thank the Magna Draconis for that!" he said. "Lance, can you get the mag-rack?"

Lance ran off to the gear room. "So the gear's not infected?" Artha questioned as Lance returned, pushing a mag-rack in front of him.

"Quite so," Parm replied, pulling the mag-rack towards him and setting the gear on it. "But while that seems okay, we'll need to make sure to use our green gear conservatively," he added. "We wouldn't want any more of our dragons getting infected if we have to buy new ones."

Kitt scowled. "That's level one gear, Parmon; I don't _think _it's possible to conserve it in its current shape," she explained bitterly. "This is already interfering with racing, and I _need _to race!"

"I hear you there, Kitt," Artha groaned, sitting down in a chair next to Parm. "If we can't use the green gear, then we'll have to think of newer strategies for racing if we need to use it."

"But you guys don't _use_ ramming gear that much!" Lance pointed out, staring at the green gear locked on the mag-rack. Beau and Wyldfyr, who came in the room, looked over at the gear, and then at their riders.

"Well, if it's needed for a race, then we're in trouble," Artha said, looking grimly at Beau. "Green gear also increases a dragon's defense, but our gear's not that good. These races are getting harder and more competitive each day!"

Kitt gave a frustrated groan. "If the races close down, then awards can't be received," she hissed. "They give out prize money too, you know. Some people don't have a choice but to race to get what they need."

_I guess I'm one of those people, _Artha thought. When his father disappeared, Artha had to start racing so that he could earn money for all their needs, such as food. It was extremely expensive to feed dragons these days and other things don't come cheap. He began hoping that the racing tracks wouldn't close because of the green gear problem.

"Why do you race, Kitt?" Lance asked, his hands akimbo.

Kitt gave a smug smile. "I race because it's my life," she said proudly. "Remember, I'm the number one racer in Dragon City, and I don't let a few little problems get in my way of keeping that position, even if I _am _on a team."

"Hey, you know, speaking of races, there's a race coming up right now!" Lance said, a grin crossing his face. Wyldfyr's teeth showed as she grinned recklessly and Beau grunted with determination.

"Oh, yeah, I completely forgot about it!" Artha gasped, slapping the palm of his hand against his head. "Thanks, bro!"

"This should be an interesting race," Parm said thoughtfully, placing his scanner on his desk and grabbing a pair of binocs. Cyrano nodded in agreement, and Lance walked up to his technical friend.

"Hey, Parm, you have drakkals, right?" he asked. "After the race, we can buy candy!"

Parm sighed and looked away. When it came to Lance and food, the child was always eager to eat, and spend their money carelessly. "Fine, but I'm buying the Draconee-Yum bars this time," he said.

Lance's face fell. "Aww…" he said, sulking. Artha and Beau looked at each other and chuckled.

- - -

While Race Marshall Budge announced the racers to everyone in the crowd, Artha and Kitt looked around and surveyed the other dragons. Parm was right, the race _would _be slightly interesting. Green ramming gear was not evident on any of the dragons, except for Decepshun and a racer's Energy-class dragon.

Artha turned his head away as Moordryd and his dragon lined up next to him. Moordryd turned to Artha with a smirk. "Ready to lose, stable _brat?" _he sneered. Whenever Artha was around, Moordryd took the opportunity to harass him with insults and injury, whichever came first.

"Ha!" Artha scoffed. "Dream on, Paynn!" He nodded at the sleek, green gear placed on Decepshun's chest, rated level six. "I see that you've brought some green ramming gear with you. I thought they were causing some problems for your crew."

Moordryd simply rolled his eyes. "Unlike the other green ramming gear out there in Dragon City and the three used on my crewmember's dragons, my gear is in good shape," he explained smugly. "No little bugs, no dents or scratches, no signs of my dragon having any trouble with this gear. What about you, Penn? I see that you're not using green ramming gear either, like the rest of these cowards. What's the matter? Too _scared_ to use it?"

Artha's hands gripped tightly on the grips of Beau's saddle, and the dragon looked up at him. "Watch it, Moordryd," Artha growled, slitting his eyes. Moordryd simply laughed and turned his attention back on the track, pressing a button so that the lower visor of his helmet rose up and covering the bottom half of his face.

"Artha!" a voice called. Artha looked beside him to see Kitt and Wyldfyr. Kitt nodded her head at Moordryd and mouthed "What about him?"

Artha realized what she was talking about; what if _Paynn_ was responsible for all this? Word Paynn wanted to start a second dragonhuman war and let the world fall under their power, and Moordryd helped him out. The fact that they could be infecting the gear to infect the dragons was believable, since it seemed as though they would stop at nothing to start the war.

Artha turned his attention to the track just as a beep sounded out, and the dragons sprinted off. Kitt was leading with Wyldfyr, maneuvering around the others. Artha did the same, maneuvering around a Dragon Flare racer and the dragon wearing green ramming gear.

As he tried bypassing Moordryd, the Dragon Eye leader maneuvered Decepshun left, bashing her into Beau and Artha, who were knocked off balance. Beau straightened back up and snorted angrily, glaring at Decepshun, who hissed at him and bashed into Beau again. "Hey, whoa!" the dark-haired teenager cried, nearly falling off. He shifted his eyes at Moordryd, who laughed at him again and sped off. Artha groaned as he watched Beau's energy meter drop.

He pressed a button on the levers, and a gear designed as rockets attached to Beau's sides flipped out. There was a burst of powerful flames from the red thrusting gear, and Artha and Beau went faster, keeping up with the other racers, making them end up in fourth place.

The racer who was third looked behind him, and pressed a button on his saddle. Aqua tentacle gear was activated, and flew back at Beau, whose eyes widened. "Whoa, Beau, look out!" Artha yelled, trying to maneuver him out of the way, but one tentacle managed to clip onto Beau's hide. He yelped and started slowing down.

Artha growled and pulled out a mag-staff, bringing it down on the tentacle gear. It snapped off and Artha and Beau had to keep running to keep their position in fourth, managing to get to third. Unfortunately Moordryd had stolen fourth place, and he finally activated the green gear on his dragon. He maneuvered Decepshun right next to Beau and bashed into them. Artha watched as Beau's energy dropped again, this time more drastically, and he gritted his teeth in frustration, shooting Moordryd a nasty glare, who just chuckled sinisterly.

"Oh, keep laughing, Moordryd!" Artha snapped, his knuckles white from gripping onto the saddle controls. The shadows were long as the sun shone above at high noon, and to Artha, that was a perfect day for beating Moordryd. "Laugh at _this! _Beau!"

Beau roared and sped forward, just past Moordryd. He scowled and pulled out an energy drain whip. Artha quickly slammed his foot on the right pedal of Beau's saddle, and the thrusting gear was activated again, causing them to speed up, the grip on Moordryd's whip just barely missing them.

Artha turned his eyes back in front of him. _Okay, if we can speed up even more, we may just hit vortex speed and even beat Kitt! _he thought. _All I need to do is release the power of the dragon…_

He closed his eyes and concentrated. It wasn't just speed alone that could help them win; you needed to be one with your dragon to fully reach the speed. He focused; he tried seeing what was going on in front of him, feeling what Beau was feeling…and then he felt the rush of wind whooshing past him, and his lips curved upwards into a triumphant smirk as he could feel themselves going faster and faster…

He suddenly heard a shriek from behind him…a dragon's shriek. Beau gave a loud grunt, and Artha's eyes snapped wide open. "Wha - ?" he gasped. He quickly slammed the brakes on his saddle. Artha saw Kitt and Wyldfyr standing next to them both, but the close victory was forgotten as they turned around to see the other racers braking and doing the same motion.

Kitt groaned. "Please tell me that's not another dragon victim…" she said, raising a hand over her eyes and squinting to see what was happening.

The Dragon Flare racer that was originally in sixth place had finally caught up to them. There was a frown on her face as she stopped her dragon and shook her head. "You're wrong, it's not another dragon victim," she grumbled. "It's two. And the other racer was using tentacle gear."

Artha and Kitt exchanged nervous glances.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Laura the Infamous B: **Thanks. I didn't get your review after I posted Chapter 3. I'll try doing as you request. :)

**Kereea: **Thanks. As you can now see, it's not just green gear getting the dragons infected…

**Crazy Person: **So you're an A/K shipper too? Hehe.


	5. A Sudden Prediction

**Twisted Shadows**

* * *

Parm shrieked as he stared through his binocs out at the racing track. "Oh, no!" he cried. Lance looked up and opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Parm answered his unsaid question as he continued, "Oh, no, no, no! Another dragon! Two! Oh, dear, what's going on?"

"Parm, two dragons? Is one of them Moordryd and Decepshun?" Lance asked. "They have green gear!"

"Well, the racer riding an Energy-class dragon had green ramming gear, and so did Moordryd, but…Decepshun didn't crash!" Parm blinked, lowering his binoculars and turning to Lance. "It was that racer that stung Artha with aqua tentacle gear!"

"What?" Lance said, staring at Parm in disbelief. "But…but he didn't have any green ramming gear!"

"I know, which can only mean one thing."

"What?"

Parm looked ill as he replied, "It's not just green ramming gear causing all this anymore."

- - -

Dragon City Medical was on the scene right away, taking the two dragons off. Artha and Kitt were approached by Parm and Lance. "Well, what exactly happened?" Parm asked.

Kitt narrowed her eyes. "Just what happened is what happened, Parm!" she said. "Embyrr didn't say much besides the fact that two dragons were struck down!"

Parm groaned. "Oh, this is very, very bad," he said nervously.

"Like we already don't know," Kitt remarked dryly. "That means both aqua gear and green gear are infected."

Lance shook his head while staring at the Dragon City Medical van. Artha took notice of this. "Hey, Lance…what's with the no?" he asked, crouching down to his brother's level.

"I don't remember having green gear or aqua gear on Fracshun at the time he collapsed," Lance said. "I'm sorry I didn't remember earlier."

Artha looked up at Beau and Wyldfyr, who nodded in agreement. "That means that _all _gear can be infected," Artha said, casting a mellow glance at Kitt and Parm.

Parm gave a shriek and one of Kitt's eyebrows arched. She gritted her teeth and her gaze hardened. "No way," she hissed. "That's…that's all scales! That means that racing could be cancelled! Nuh uh, stable boy, I don't think it's _all _gear."

"Face it, Kitt," Artha responded, standing up. "Racing could be done for until the problem's been tapped into."

"And is Dragon City Security or Dragon City Medical doing anything about it?" Kitt snapped back. Instinctively Artha took a few steps back. "All they're doing is just trying to help these victims of this virus instead of finding out what's causing it!"

"Yeah, uh, I think that's – " Artha said, about to say that her statement wasn't true, but the top racer continued her rant.

"Do you know how many people here race? Lots!" Kitt said. "Besides, I – "

"This isn't just about you and racing, Kitt!" Artha yelled, cutting her off. "It's about Dragon City and what's happening to those dragons, you got that?"

For a moment Kitt stood there, glaring at Artha, then scoffed and spun around sharply, walking away. Wyldfyr glanced at Beau blankly before following her human. Parm and Lance looked at each other uneasily. Artha ran after her as she stopped at a candy bar stall. "Look, I'm sorry I yelled, but you don't seem to realize how serious this issue is," he said.

Kitt continued averting her gaze from him as she handed the person working at the stall a drakkal card. "A double-size Dragonola bar, and two Draconee-Yum bars," she told him.

"Make it three," Artha added. He looked at Kitt, who still didn't respond or even look at him. He groaned. "All you were doing was talking about yourself!"

It was then that she snapped her head in his direction, and her expression was far from happy. "You know, if we went back in time, _you'd _be that person, stable boy," she snarled, glowering at him. _"You'd_ be the person just thinking about himself and nobody else!"

"That was before," Artha replied. "Things are getting even more and more serious! I can't always think about myself!"

"Oh, yes, you can!" Kitt retorted with a scowl. "You do that all the time!"

"Nobody's perfect!" Artha pointed out. "Right now, all you're concerned about is what'll happen to your _racing career. _Isn't it?"

"I'm upset, Artha!" Kitt cried, looking ready to beat Artha to the ground. "Okay? I care about racing, and it's none of your business, because apparently, I'm not all that important!"

"You're acting like a doofus!" Artha growled, starting to get impatient. "I'm on your team! And I'm your team _leader!_ And you're my friend. I care about my friends _and _Dragon City! Can we stop arguing already?"

Kitt rolled her eyes. "Fine!" she huffed, and snatched her drakkal card. She placed one of the Draconee-Yum bars and the Dragonola bar in her pocket, and reached for the last two candy bars. Artha grabbed both of them and dangled one in front of her face with a coy smile.

"So, I take the doofus will leave you alone now?" Artha smirked.

Kitt promptly snatched the Draconee-Yum bar. "Yes, he will," she replied coldly, and gave a wicked grin as she walked away with Wyldfyr.

Artha frowned and slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead. _Yeah, I soooo_ _fell for that one,_ he thought wryly, peeling open his Draconee-Yum bar, and biting into it.

- - -

"Look what I got! _Look _what _I _got!"

Artha, Beau, and Lance looked up as Parm came walking into the Dragon Temple, his eyes alight with excitement. "Aw, don't tell me that you've got something big to say, Parm!" Lance groaned, placing his hands on his head. Artha immediately burst out laughing.

Parm held up a small container. Lance jumped up and looked inside it, only to step back, disgusted. "You're excited about a dead mag-chomper?" he gasped, blinking in horror. "That's just sick!"

Mortis peeked into the container as well. Indeed, there was a dead mag-chomper, stiff and curled up. "Where did you get this?" Mortis asked.

"Well, see, I was just visiting the Tech-Academy my mum works at, when one of the other professors there was examining an Orange Drag-Box." Parm shuddered. "All the mag-chompers contained in it were not alive."

"And definitely not drac!" Lance added, still sickened at the sight of a dead critter. "Eww."

"Well, see, _this _particular mag-chomper was an experiment," Parm said. He turned towards his dragon, Cyrano, who had come along with Parm on the express elevator. "Cyrano here had on some red thrusting gear, well, for no apparent reason, but when my mum set one of the mag-chompers from the box to eat away at the gear, well…"

Artha, who also examined the mag-chomper, tentatively poked at it, then frowned. "Well, I'm gonna guess that our red thrusting gear is infected as well?" he drawled, rather displeased.

Parm held up an odd-looking object. It was sleek and colored red, and also had a white marking on it. "This is a piece of the level one red thrusting gear that was on Cyrano," he explained. "After the mag-chomper took eleven bites – "

"Eleven bites?" Artha repeated.

"Yes, hold on, I'm still talking. Anywho, after it fell off, Cyrano was going to mag off the gear, but it seemed as though in the process, he panicked!" Parm looked at Cyrano, who seemed to shudder. "He was magging it off, and then just mag-blasted it to a wall, breaking the rest of the gear."

Beau suddenly began conversing with Cyrano, who replied back in rather loud and anguished grunts. "What is it, boy?" Artha said, looking at Beau.

The red and blue dragon looked up with a disturbed face. "Looks like whatever infected that gear and that mag-chomper was after Cyrano," Artha murmured worriedly. He lowered his eyebrows. "What if Paynn is behind this?"

"That may be possible," Mortis said. "Word is the wealthiest man in Dragon City, and has very advanced technology that may have been able to tap into gear and infect it somehow!"

"Don't forget that you keep messing up their plans, and that they might be really desperate!" Lance chimed in, rocking back and forth on the ground.

"Though how he may be doing this is very complicated…" Mortis mused, resting his staff on the ground.

"Extremely complicated!" Parm said, pulling out one of his devices. "I mean, you'll have to do a lot of work, like de-wire any circuits, reprogram the functions, and for a virus to be that powerful…" He looked up to see Artha and Lance giving him a nervous glance. "Oh, well, as you can see, it's not easy to infect a dragon by a gear virus."

"Moordryd was on the track today too," Artha recalled. "What if _he's _placing the virus into the gear?"

"Just how does he do that?" Lance argued. "It's impossible."

"Not necessarily, Lance," Parm said, punching in commands. "Viruses can be spread."

"And Moordryd had an energy drain whip and green gear!" Lance added. "So what if somehow he gave the virus to the aqua tentacle gear and the other racer's green ramming gear using those?"

"I can't really see how anybody could pass a virus to anyone using green ramming gear, besides just bashing into another dragon and rider," Artha mumbled, and looked at Mortis.

"Artha is right," Mortis said. "Green ramming gear doesn't function in any other way besides giving a dragon more strength and force to attack its opponents."

"But the theory is quite possible," Parm said. His eyes shifted. "Well, of course, one in seventeen point ninety-four and three repeated. But still very possible, except even more complicated."

"So that just leaves us with the drain whip," Lance implied.

"Maybe the drain whip isn't just draining dragons' energies," Artha said. "Maybe it also has a function to pass on another command, like…like putting a virus into somebody else's gear! That's it!"

"You know, Moordryd and Word are just one of our suspects," Lance pointed out. "I mean, we aren't sure if they're _really _the cause of all this."

"True, but we should keep them both in mind," Mortis said. "Knowing Word, at times he can be very unpredictable."

"Gee, looks like you and Word go way back," Artha said.

Mortis nodded grimly. "Word and I were old friends in the Ancient Order," he explained as Parm and Cyrano sat on the ground. "We didn't get along well. I was his second teacher, the youngest, very close to his age."

"Second teacher?" Lance asked. "Who was his first?"

Mortis stared off to his side. "We called him Tannis the Wise," he said, respect in his voice.

"Ah, Tannis the Wise?" Artha gasped. "My dad said that Tannis was his teacher when he was my age!"

"Hey, correct me if I'm wrong, Artha, but isn't Tannis your middle name?" Parm questioned.

"Yeah, that's how I found out about Tannis," Artha said, giving a small smile.

"Yes, Tannis did teach Conner in the Ancient Order," Mortis said. "He also taught Word. He knew almost everything about every legend and tale that took place centuries ago, and trained us in the ancient arts. He was also very strict. He was the one that banished Word from the Ancient Order, for his fiendish plans for a dragonhuman war, and for experimenting with dragon control gear."

"Dragon control gear?" Lance echoed. "I always wonder why Word controls dragons if he wants them to rule."

"He what?" Artha and Parm said, turning their heads towards the redheaded child. Beau and Cyrano looked up with confused grunts.

"Well…yeah!" Lance said. "I mean, Moordryd told me that his father wanted dragons to rule, and…well, he sounded honest when he told me that!"

"Word believes that dragons should rule, alone," Mortis replied. "But he also believes that dragons should not trust humans anymore, and that humans are abusing dragons, so he decided to experiment with dragon control gear so that the dragons have a will and purpose of their very own."

"Huh, doesn't sound like a very good way of doing it," Artha scoffed.

"True, and now focusing so much on his plans of a dragonhuman war have influenced Word to the point where he is blind to many things," Mortis said.

Artha leaned back on Beau. "My dad was once friends with Word," he said. He looked up at Mortis. "Hey, by any chance, did you know what my dad was like at my age?"

There was a brief moment of silence. "Your father was very much like you are right now, Artha," Mortis said. "He took responsibility in his hands, and made sacrifices, even though it would hurt him and others in doing so."

Artha sighed. "Yeah, I know," he said. "He's like that. I wish he was still here."

Lance nodded and sat next to Artha. "Yeah, me too," he said.

"He was very smart," Parm added.

Mortis turned his back on the five of them. "He would be happy to hear you say that," he said, rather gravely, and he walked away.

"Well, that was a bit strange," Parm murmured. He looked at the fragment of red draconium gear in his hand. "I'll analyze this and see if I can find what's the cause of all these problems!"

"You do that, and I'll take Lance to Dragon City Medical," Artha replied, standing up and stretching his arms.

"You will?" Lance gasped, his eyes wide as he jumped up.

"Well, sure," Artha said. "I'm sure Fracshun's feeling better now, don't you think?"

"Drac!" Lance said, and embraced his older brother. "Thanks, Artha!"

Beau grunted and grinned and magged Artha and Lance onto his saddle. Parm was magged onto Cyrano, and peered inside the container containing the mag-chomper. "Eww, you're gonna examine the dead mag-chomper as well?" Artha said, his face twisting into a frown as he put on his helmet.

Parm gulped. "I'm not very good with this kind of stuff," he moaned, his shoulders slumping. Artha and Lance exchanged idle glances, before Beau and Cyrano headed over to the express elevator.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

_**A./N: Yes, yes, I know, I know, teenage angst is annoying. Couldn't help it. **Feedback, as usual, is always appreciated._

**Kereea: **Right, Decepshun's not hurt. But who knows what could happen? ;)

**Crazy Person: **You know very well what an A/K shipper is. :P And thanks.


	6. A Problematic Situation

**Twisted Shadows**

* * *

He was scared. True, the nurses had been kind to him, but it was scary being alone. He had already seen the other dragons and how sick they have been. He heard their screams, their moans, their cries…

"Fracshun?"

Could it be?

The young blue dragon looked up and trilled happily as Lance laughed and ran over to hug him. At the doorway, Artha and Beau exchanged pleased glances.

"Phase one, complete," Artha murmured to his dragon with a smile, then turned to the blue-haired nurse that also stood in the doorway. "So, I take it he's feeling better?"

"Not quite," the nurse replied with a frown. "See, we tended to most of the child dragons first, but they're just _feeling_ better. We still can't fully figure out how to cure the virus. We've managed to tend to most of the dragons, but then we realized that the virus is more serious than we thought it was."

Beau snorted and rolled his eyes. Artha shook his head and elbowed him. "So just how serious is this?" Artha asked.

"How about drop-dead-unless-tended serious?" the nurse responded curtly. Artha's eyebrows arched and Beau was thrown off balance. "Already, one of the victims went down before we could finishing operating. Of course, it died on the operation table, so that may just be it."

"And Dragon City Medical are allowed make mistakes?" Artha countered, slightly annoyed by the problematic issue in their hands.

The nurse flinched, but only slightly. "We're not perfect, Mr. Penn. Nobody is, not even you." The nurse beckoned Lance out. "Your dragon will have to stay here. We're trying to help him as best as we can." There was a _beep, _and the nurse pressed a button on her earpiece. Artha watched her expression shift, then return back to normal. "Well, seems like one of _ours_ got infected. This is just getting better and better."

_Isn't it?_ Artha thought irritably, though he held his tongue.

"See ya, Fracshun," Lance whispered, waving his hand. Fracshun gave a sad smile and squeaked a reply.

As Artha, Beau, and Lance exited the Dragon City Medical Center, Artha got off Beau and looked up at Lance. "You guys go ahead back to Penn Stables," Artha said. "I'm gonna get us some stuff."

Lance nodded, and Beau grunted in acknowledgement before he took off.

Artha began looking around the stands and stalls set up, making his way through the bustling crowd of chatting people and dragons. He picked up words scattered around that seem to involve the dragon issue. Right then and there, he swore upon the Magna Draconis that somehow, before it was too late, that he would cease whatever was happening to those getting hurt: friend or foe, ally or enemy, good or bad.

He continued to think deeply on the whole dilemma as he wandered around. The change of atmosphere seemed like an odd difference, however, it seemed to help, despite the noise. He delved deeper into his mind, into another issue of being the Dragon Booster. Ever since Mortis was taken mind prisoner by the devious Propheci, Artha realized that he needed to stop taking the whole Dragon Booster fiasco as granted; he needed to become more responsible. It didn't seem very easy.

He finally glimpsed her at a VIDDZine stall. Smiling, he tapped her shoulder. "Didn't think you'd be lurking around here," he said.

"Well, I am," Kitt replied curtly, putting down the VIDDZine she had picked up. She smirked. "What are you doing here, stable boy?"

"Just looking around," Artha said. He frowned. "You know, a Dragon City Medical dragon was attacked."

"Hmm? Oh, really."

"Yeah, and judging by that comment, you don't seem to care."

Kitt's expression hardened. "What makes you think I don't care? Of course I care," she retorted, before turning back to the VIDDZine stall. "You care too much."

"Well…I'm supposed to care," Artha said. "I'm the Dragon Booster."

Kitt forced another smile. "I guess that's a good enough excuse," she muttered. "We're in Mid City. Why not check out the Dragster Mall while we're here? They have some gear on display."

"Why would we want gear if gear is being infected?" Artha asked.

"Because then we may be able to check what may be happening," Kitt replied. "Parm's probably not the only one investigating the gear, and you know that. We should see if there are other people who know about this problem."

Artha lips curved back into the smile he had before. "Makes sense," he said. "Let's go."

- - -

The first thing Lance did was try not to vomit at the nauseating sight that greeted his eyes when he entered Parm's workshop. Not only was the mag-chomper dead, but parts of it had been dissected and torn slightly. He shuddered. He had seen nasty before, but now _that_ was just…really nasty.

"Didn't I warn you earlier that I wasn't good at dissecting and probing?" Parm murmured, investigating the piece of red thrusting gear he was scanning. He stared intently at his VIDDComp, watching the data scrolling across the screen.

"Well, did you find out anything, besides what body parts are inside a mag-chomper?" Lance drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, I believe I _have_ found out some things besides the internal organs of an orange mag-chomper, thank you very much," Parm responded darkly, shifting his eyes irritably at Lance. He showed Lance a small diagram he had sketched out crudely.

"Nice bipedal bull-class dragon," Lance stated politely. "Unusual, but unique."

Parm rolled his eyes. "Oh, haha, very funny," he muttered. "Lance, you know what this is!"

"I do, but let's be honest…I'm ten." He pointed at all the text written at the sides and corners of the diagram. "I don't get a single word this diagram is telling me."

Parm let his arms sag and he bumped his head backwards on the wall, giving an exasperated groan. "Sorry," Lance winced.

"Okay, fine! As you know, this is a sketch of our mag-chomper. As you can see here, once the gear was ingested and digested by the mag-chomper, something immediately took effect." He pointed at the brain of the mag-chomper sketch. "Now, it traveled towards the cerebral area of our victim, and somehow seemed to tamper with the bodily functions, causing dizziness and riveting pain throughout the body."

Lance looked rather lost as his eyes shifted around. "Uh, I understand the 'pain throughout the body' part," he said timidly. "Is that why they usually moan and groan and twitch around?"

"Most likely, similar to fainting and seizures, except very much more unusual," Parm implied, rather pleased that his message got through to Lance, to some extent. He raised the piece of gear in his hands. "Now, as for this, I've scanned it, and I found something."

"The virus!" Lance chimed, staring at Parm's VIDDComp screen.

"Precisely," Parm exclaimed. "Of course, I'm not sure you can understand everything this is telling you. You see, that same bug that infected the mag-chomper infects dragons."

"I get that, but how?" Lance asked.

"I'm not exactly sure…I have, however, come to a conclusion that it has to do with mag-energy. Once a dragon channels its mag-energy to the gear, the gear activates, and the bug kicks in."

"So how do we know if the gear's infected?"

"Well…" Parm murmured, his eyes shifting to his computer screen. "There's always scanning. But there have been reports about safe gear going haywire and causing even more distress among the dragons."

"You mean…you mean that you _can't_ tell if gear is infected or not?"

The intelligent teenager grimaced, panic in his eyes. "Troubling indeed!" he said. "Now it's completely random with…with a sixty-two point seven chance of our dragons getting infected."

Lance looked away sadly. "I overheard the nurse talking about a dragon dying," he whispered. "I hope Fracshun doesn't die."

"But there is a forty-seven…" Parm started, then let his voice trail off. Who was he to crush a little boy's hope? He embraced Lance. "I'm sure he'll be alright. All we can do is hope that this situation hopefully doesn't become more troubling."

- - -

From the shadows of the stables, Mortis watched them both. The Dragon Priest glanced at Lance, who looked sorrowful. To know what it was like to lose something twisted your heart and caused you pain and sorrow.

When Lance knows there is a chance he will lose Fracshun…

Like when he almost lost his friends…

When he almost lost Artha…

When he lost his father…

Mortis sighed and placed his head in his hand, turning around and walking away slowly.

- - -

"It's crowded."

"State the obvious, eh, stable boy?"

Artha cast a mock glare at Kitt before turning back to look in front of him. The Dragster Mall was not an outside mall, rather, more of a combination of an inside mall and an outside mall. The building, which was the inside part of Dragster Mall, was vast and sleek, something expected of Sun City. The outside mall was as casual as many other Mid City malls.

Of course, both inside and outside were swarmed with people and dragons. Artha and Kitt exchanged glances again, then turned and walked through the inside part of Dragster Mall.

There was nothing to talk about at the moment, so Artha and Kitt observed the people around them. A red-haired lady in a fancy green and white suit was busy talking with another lady, who wore pink and blue and had blond hair, streaked pink and blue. A man in red, blue and gold with spiky hair was bargaining with a young girl wearing purple and blue with her black hair tied back. A bipedal purple dragon peeked inside a store full of clothes and such.

"Whose idea was this?" Kitt muttered. Artha opened his mouth as the girl quickly added, "Shut it, Artha."

"We could've just bought a few Draconee-Yum bars and then headed back to my place," Artha suggested.

"Well, we're here," Kitt replied. "We might as well make the best of it. Look, there's the weaponry shop. Let's see if we can find any clues or whatever."

"Since when did you get so involved in investigating?"

Kitt rolled her eyes. "Since you're the Dragon Booster," she said.

"Not so loud!" Artha hissed through gritted teeth.

"Sorry. So anyway, yeah, if you have the same responsibilities as Dragon City Security, then you need to help them too."

"They didn't _ask_ for help."

"A lot of people who need help don't ask for help. Ever realized that?"

"Uh, because they don't want any help? Ever realized that?"

"Still, who'd stop us from trying to find out what's up with the dragons?"

Artha paused briefly. "You have a point," he responded, before stepping forward.

At that moment the glass up above shattered, and a figure jumped down in the middle of the startled crowd.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	7. A Troubling Coming

**Twisted Shadows**

* * *

People and dragons were running around in panic as disrupter mines were thrown in each direction and were set off practically everywhere, smoke rolling in the area. There was the sound of a mag-shooter, and the lights suddenly went off with a spluttering _bang!_

Coughing, crying, and the sound of draconium glass shards splintering on the ground could be heard as Artha caught the shadow of the mysterious person running. "Hey!" Artha called, still coughing. _"Hey!" _

The person paid no heed as he, or she, continued running off. "Get back here!" Artha yelled, taking off after the figure, cutting through shocked people and surprised dragons. The smoke was clearing up, and Artha could barely catch the foot that disappeared around the corner. He wished that he had Beau with him, or maybe even Wyldfyr.

Now, perhaps that person just may listen if Artha became the Dragon Booster…

He stopped and hid in a corner, pulling out his amulet and slipping it on his gauntlet.

Kitt was busy running after Artha, also searching for the mysterious person who burst in, when she saw a flash of brilliant gold light. Shielding her eyes, she saw Artha step out,in his blue and gold Dragon Booster armor. Too busy to notice Kitt, he slipped out of the corner and ran off, after the culprit.

He turned the same corner that the person had turned to, and saw the figure down the hall, yet again turning another corner. _Stupid scale-scraping corners! _Artha thought irritably as he continued running after him, pulling out his jakk-stick and extending it.

The staff doors were right up ahead, and had just shut close with a last hiss. Artha used his arms to pull them open and ran outside to the back alley, his eyes darting back and forth so much that he blinked, his eyes stinging slightly. He caught it; the looming shadow hiding behind a dumpster and a dragon van. He stepped forward.

_Crunch._

_Huh? _

Artha spun right around and threw his jakk-stick. He heard a yelp and feet staggering noisily, followed by the sound of draconium metal hitting the ground with a resonating _clang_. He jumped on the dragon van and saw the culprit. Diving, he tackled the figure to the ground, but what was left in his hands was a blue and turquoise jacket with several pink streaks, obviously resembling a crewmember Voice of the Dragon.

At that moment he heard a familiar cry, plus the sound of two people hitting the ground. When he looked up, he saw Kitt, her teeth clenched, pinning down the culprit, none other than…Rancydd?

"So _you're_ the one causing all the trouble!" Artha snapped, picking up and twirling his jakk-stick and setting it on his shoulder casually. He approached Kitt and Rancydd and looked down at the skilled Dragon Eyes thief. He then smiled at Kitt. "Nice work."

Kitt gave a smug smile. Rancydd chose the opportunity to pull out a disrupter mine and set it off. Of course, that caused a bit of trouble for him as well as Artha caught him running off, his coughs in the air mingling with Artha and Kitt's.

"Hey! You get your butt over here!" Artha cried, cut off by his coughing fits as the smoke managed to clear.

"Let's get him, hero boy!" Kitt growled, pulling out her mag-staff, but just as she was about to extend it, Artha grabbed her arm.

"Why don't we just let him off the hook for now, Kitt?" he said, rather tired. "Why don't we just go home?"

The sound of sirens started ringing it Artha's ears again. "Freeze, stay right where you are, both of you," Artha muttered frustratingly.

"Huh?" Kitt questioned.

"Freeze! Stay right where you are, both of you!"

"…oh."

- - -

Both Artha and Kitt turned back around to see the holder of the third voice that bellowed, none other than Captain Faier. "We got a call about someone causing mayhem in Dragster Mall," Faier said as the other officers surrounded the area with mag-staffs and mag-shooters in their hands. "Perhaps you two witnessed the scene?"

"Yeah, we actually stopped him, until he got away!" Kitt scoffed. "It was the Dragon Eye Rancydd."

The Dragon City Security captain shook his head. "Another Dragon Eye-related theft," he said.

"Or maybe it was somebody else," Artha said. "It seemed like there were _two_ people involved in all this. I was tracking the first one, and then Rancydd made his mistake by stepping on a piece of garbage. Then Kitt dived at him, but as she said, he got away."

Faier groaned. "This is worse than I thought," the security captain murmured. He turned towards Artha. "What we need are people who know what seems to be going on, and who's causing this all. Dragon City Security will need all the help they can get from you, Dragon Booster. Will you help us with this?"

Artha nodded firmly. "I'm way ahead of you," he said. "I'll do my best, Captain Faier."

- - -

"So just who knows what seems to be going on?" Parm asked, still scrolling through his research as he and Artha headed over to a Draconee-Yum bar stand with Lance. "I mean, everybody else whose witnessed these strange thefts and infecting of dragons probably have no idea how this could've happened!"

"We still need to have a little hope," Artha told him. He turned towards his friend. "So you've got information on what happened?"

"Yeah, and that's mag-energy related!" Lance chimed, his eyes blatantly straying towards the Draconee-Yum bar stands. Artha rolled his eyes when he turned to Beau and saw the dragon's eyes also shifting. "When a dragon mags on the infected gear, they get the virus!"

"So it's all a matter of mag-energy?" Artha mused. "Makes sense, somewhat. So how will we know if the gear is infected or not?"

Parm looked down nervously, and Lance's face fell. "Don't tell me you _can't_ tell if gear is infected or not…" Artha groaned, his eyes narrowing.

"Okay, then, I won't tell you," Parm uttered, getting in line behind a brunette wearing yellow, black and blue. "But you just can't. So, whatever happened at the Dragster Mall?"

"You were in the Dragster Mall when the weird events started happening?" the brunette interrupted, suddenly looking at them both with her eyes alight with sudden intrigue. The black-haired girl from the mall that was running the stand also glanced at them.

Parm was about to open his mouth about butting into conversations when Artha shook his head. "Er, no, we weren't there," Artha responded hastily. He saw the shopkeeper roll her eyes back, and quickly slammed down a drakkal bill. "Four Draconee-Yum bars, please."

"Excuse me, I'm still in line," the brunette said, cutting in front of Artha. "So, where's my order?"

The young shopkeeper grabbed two Dragonola bars and a low calorie Draconee-Yum bar, putting them on the desk. "But I ordered one Dragonola bar," the brunette pointed out.

"And the problem with free stuff is?" the shopkeeper drawled, arching an eyebrow.

The lady flinched. "A little more enthusiasm wouldn't hurt," the brunette muttered, taking the candy and putting them in her purse.

"Whatever," the girl muttered back, counting the drakkals.

"Right, then, you just lost a very important customer," the brunette retorted, walking away.

The girl let her head hit the desk. "Uh, can I order now?" Artha asked.

"Depends."

"We're not leaving if we get free stuff!" Lance said enthusiastically. "I just _love_ candy!"

"Really?" the shopkeeper replied dryly, looking at Lance casually. She looked at Parm and Artha.

"Well?" Parm asked.

"So?"

"So…what?" Parm responded, slightly confused.

"Your order."

"Oh," Parm said, lowering his head in embarrassment as his eyes shifted around. He saw a mag-shooter and the nametag "Lii Prysm" on the floor of the stall. "I think Artha asked for four Draconee-Yum bars."

"And four Dragonola bars," Artha said, digging into his pockets. He frowned. "Uh, do you take I.O.U's?"

The girl stared at him again. "Right…" Artha said, his eyes shifting around nervously. "Parm, you got any drakkals?"

His friend shook his head. "Scales…" Artha seethed, slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Okay, I'll take three large Dragonola bars, and four Draconee-Yum bars."

Lii started counting the money. "Nope," she said.

"Then what are the options?" Artha questioned, rather annoyed.

"Two large Dragonola bars, four Draconee-Yum bars," she replied. "Or, three large Dragonola bars, three Draconee-Yum bars."

"But we have enough money!" Parm argued, punching in calculations on his calculator.

"For each option," Lii pointed out. She fixed her purple vest and placed her head on the counter, slouching in her seat. "Change for the first."

"Okay, Lance, which sounds better to you?" Artha asked.

"I don't really see why we need four Dragonola bars anyway," Lance responded, going back to Artha's former request just before the brunette got her candy.

"Lance, we need four. What about – " Parm asked, looking up from his calculator, but Artha quickly glanced at him, and Parm went back to calculating, realizing the little error of what he was about to say. "Er, okay, the latter. Kitt can buy her own Draconee-Yum bar anyway."

"What?" Lii said, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" Parm repeated, blinking in confusion.

"…latter?"

Parm sighed. "The second choice," Artha defined for him, both unimpressed by the young shopkeeper's lack of vocabulary. "So I know that you _were_ at the Dragster Mall. Did you see who the person was?"

"Nope," Lii said, grabbing three large Dragonola bars. "Done yet?"

"Well, did you hear any descriptions from the witnesses?" Artha continued.

"Red-haired guy. Had a Dragon Eye symbol."

Artha's discouragement increased. He could see he wasn't going to get anywhere with this pointless interrogating. "Thanks," he said.

"Whatever," Lii said, shrugging as the girl grabbed the last Draconee-Yum bar and gave it to them. Lance immediately snatched it and peeled it open, only for Beau to knock Lance and snatch the Draconee-Yum bar with his tail, tossing it into his mouth.

Artha quickly stuffed his candy bar, and hand, into his pocket as Beau spat out the wrapper remains. _Well, she wasn't much help,_ Artha thought. _Though maybe it _was_ only Rancydd at the scene of the crime. At least, that's what it seems like._

- - -

"How's your reputation as the craftiest thief in our crew holding up for you, Rancydd?" Cain asked frustratingly, seething as he glanced at the red-haired man from the couch the lieutenant sat on.

Rancydd rolled his eyes. "Oh, _please!"_ he snapped. "Like it was that easy with the Dragon Booster chasing after you!"

"The Dragon _Bonehead_ is always the excuse," Moordryd responded, sitting dangerously on the arm of the couch that Blarre and Cain sat on. "The question is _how_ you got discovered, my friend."

"You _should_ be a Voice of the Dragon, since they're so clumsy," Cain growled. "When will you learn _not_ to ditch the jackets?"

Rancydd muttered something under his breath. "We can't hear you!" Swayy said, tucking a strand of green hair behind her ears.

"I stepped on a Dragonola wrapper," he repeated quietly.

Blarre looked away with a pitying smile on her face and Cain scowled, muttering something again about _really_ being a Voice of the Dragon. Moordryd rested his forehead on his fingers and shook his head in shame. "So, did any 'accidents' happen at Dragster Mall?" he sighed, looking absentmindedly at his nails.

"Well…not really," Rancydd replied. "But here's the weird thing; I don't think I was the only one there."

Moordryd's eyes shifted towards his crewmember as he put his hand down. Cain and Swayy exchanged glances while Blarre looked up from the mag-staff she was holding. "So," Rancydd started, pleased that he strayed away from his failure. "The Dragon Booster seemed to have a hard time hounding me down. And it was probably because he was tracking somebody else! I saw him. He was looking away from me, his back turned away from me."

"Did you see who the person was?" Moordryd wanted to know, leaning forward. Rancydd opened his mouth to continue, but at that moment Moordryd fell off with a yelp. Swayy and Blarre grinned wickedly as Moordryd shot his four crewmembers a dark look as he stood up, brushing dirt off his sleeves.

Rancydd's smirk vanished. "I didn't get a chance to see whoever…or _whatever,_ it was," he responded steadily, nervous that the young Dragon Eye leader may get infuriated with him again.

"Whatever?" Moordryd echoed. "I wasn't there, but I doubt there'd be any dragons causing trouble if you're describing this other person as…well, a person."

"There are the sound of footsteps to consider," Blarre said. Rancydd and Moordryd nodded.

"Or…it could've been a newt," Moordryd said, a small smirk on his face as Cain glared at the crewmembers snickering at him. "So, that's the only 'accident'."

"Oh, yeah, there _was_ an accident…" Rancydd quickly added, the humor in the atmosphere dying down again. "I heard a shriek. A dragon's shriek. Make that _several_ dragons shrieking. And it didn't sound very nice."

Blarre pressed a button on her comm-link. "…Mall had eighteen more victims to this freakishly rising breakout of this unexpected virus," the female Dragon City News announcer's voice explained. The next part had Cain, Moordryd and Swayy glaring angrily at Rancydd. "The Dragon Eyes are now suspected to be the cause behind all this, as of a Dragon Eye crewmember being the cause of a hubbub amongst the people in Dragster Mall."

As the announcer moved on explaining about an issue of a few minor support towers nearly collapsing in Work Town, Rancydd quickly shot out of the room frantically as Blarre's mag-staff banged against the closing doors. "I'm sorry, but did you _ask?_" Blarre remarked, glancing at Cain as Swayy laughed.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

**A/N:** Okay, Twisted Shadows may be going on a two-week (more or less) hiatus, because I'm heading off to Las Vegas for December 23rd, '05 and I won't be back until January 1st, '06. See ya then! ;)


	8. A Desperate Task

**Twisted Shadows**

* * *

"I have a headache," Parm moaned.

Kitt arched one of her eyebrows and Artha stopped brushing Beau, looking at the genius. Parm was in his desk, hand on his forehead. He didn't look very happy, or enthusiastic.

"Must be all the thinking," Lance murmured, returning back to his VIDDGame.

"I think you should take a break, Parm," Artha told him, continuing to brush Beau. "In fact, we all need a break. We've been stressing out on this issue a bit too much, and with this much stress, I seriously don't know if we're gonna live until we're as old as Libris."

"We get plenty of exercise," Kitt responded, brushing Wyldfyr. "Stress won't kill us that easily if we're in good shape."

"I guess," Parm mumbled. "Oh, Lance, can you turn your video game volume down? It's starting to bother me."

Lance turned down the volume. "What did you say?" Lance asked, looking up at Parm.

"That's better," Parm sighed while Beau laughed as Parm walked away.

"So, what's the report on crime level and how Dragon City Security is doing?" Kitt questioned, brushing Wyldfyr's back while Lance got up to get a glass of water.

"Eh, well, a lot of criminals and daredevils are being caught more easily," Artha replied, shrugging. "Probably because Dragon City Security is all over Dragon City now."

"Well, finally!" Kitt scowled. "If you ask me, they were doing a pretty poor job with their authority before any of this happened! How can that be loved?"

Artha glanced at her. "Who said the authority was loved?" he said with a wry smirk.

"But I thought you were part of this unloved authority," Kitt grinned back. Artha smote his forehead.

"Er, true, yeah, but…"

"Not everybody loves the Dragon Booster, Artha. There are people, who are not even criminals, that hate you."

"Jealousy?"

"Mostly. I remember overhearing a few people say 'Why do we need a hero?' or 'Why does he have to go in when we're just fine the way we are?' and blah. They can't accept what you're doing."

"But isn't it better when there is no crime or bad doings or…or whatever?"

Kitt shrugged, putting the brush away. "I guess they don't want a change in their life, or they do…a change from 'Oh, look, the Dragon Booster! We're saved!' What you do isn't new anymore. It's casual and expected," she replied. She looked at Artha, who was frowning. "Hey, just to let you know…I'm not one of those people. You know, the people that don't like you."

Artha's eyes shifted around sheepishly and he smiled. "Yeah, well, when I was stable boy, I don't know what you would've thought of me if it wasn't for me being the hero boy," he responded.

"And that's why I'm glad you are the hero boy," Kitt said. She smiled back at Artha.

After a moment she cleared her throat. "Well, they cancelled racing this morning until this whole virus thing can be stopped," she announced, frowning. "I missed the race because I thought there wasn't going to be one. Then the officials decided to let the racers have one last race before it was all done."

"Gee, that's too bad," Artha murmured. "There's always Mortis' Dragon Temple. And the Down City streets."

"Yeah!" Lance said, returning back. "There's even these Down City courses me and Artha go through. One of them is the Eye of the Needle track. So, you see – "

"Hey, hey, explain it to me…when I beat you," Kitt said slyly, and before Artha and Lance could speak up, she was on Wyldfyr, speeding off.

Not until Parm came back up again. "If you want to get soaked in Down City, then go on ahead," he said. He held up his wrist and pointed to his wrist-comm. "According to the Dragon City weatherman, it's going to be pouring in this evening, and it's going to be hitting here soon!"

The humans groaned and Beau and Wyldfyr sighed. "Well, then, what's Plan B?" Kitt asked.

Artha and Lance grinned. "Mortis!" they replied happily.

- - -

A growl. A snarl. A snap forward, jaws clamping shut. A surprised yelp. A desperate cry of help. A flash stick going off. A whip snapping out, clamping onto its victim, draining its energy.

"Moordryd, the other one! The other one!" Cain cried frantically, backing away hastily.

Moordryd groaned, rolled his eyes, whirled around and snapped his black energy whip at an attacking dragon, who screamed and was forced to the ground slowly. He snapped his whip off and looked at both dragons whom had struggled, then looked at Swayy and Cain frustratingly. "You fools!" he berated. "Ever wonder why I bring you on these little dragon thefts?"

Cain and Swayy exchanged nervous glances. "Give up?" Moordryd sighed. "So you can _help_ me? No scales! That includes getting these dragons into the dragon van without me having to do all the work! That's helping!"

"Speak for yourself!" Swayy protested, trembling. "That Magma-class nearly bit off my hand!"

"Like you haven't suffered that feeling of fear millions of times," Moordryd drawled irritably.

"Well, don't spaz out on us, Moordryd," Swayy grumbled. "We gotta be careful here! The level of Dragon City Security's gone up!"

"Now, they're in Down City, where the other Down City crews are!" Cain added. "That's bad, Moordryd, like, really bad!"

"But we only have two dragons," Moordryd groused, pulling out his mag-staff and forcing a dragon into the large Dragon Eye dragon van. "That's not enough!"

"Well, maybe you're more intent on getting more dragons, but let me remind you of the virus attack?" Cain replied.

"I know that, you fool," Moordryd muttered, shivering slightly and wishing that he'd have brought a jacket as he forced the second dragon into the van. "Scales, this stupid rain isn't making anything any better. How can _you_ possibly stand precipitation and temperatures like this?"

Cain shrugged. "First off, I get more sleep," he said, and yawned. "Sleep is good for you."

"Which we also need," Swayy agreed. She pulled back her hair and twisted it. "This isn't good for our health."

"Health, shmelth, what about the dragons?" Moordryd argued, and sneezed twice. He started shivering again, folding his arms and trying hard not to make his teeth chatter. "L-l-look, I don't c-c-care if it's s-s-snowing or h-hailing right now! We h-have to get more dragons than th-th-this much!"

"Not a c-chance, Moordryd," Cain retorted, starting to shiver as well. "We need to get outta here, especially you! Now!"

"I'm with him, Moordryd," Swayy breathed. "Let's just call it quits and try again tomorrow."

"No! We can't!" Moordryd screeched, his voice cracking. "I won't allow it to happen! We need more dragons for my father!" He sneezed again and went into a bad coughing fit, shaking helplessly. Decepshun gave a worried grunt and nuzzled her head against him.

Cain shook his head in bewilderment. "I'll be scaled. Look at you!" he said. "Look at us! We're out in the pouring rain; it might as well be hailing, for dragons' sake! We barely have the strength to continue on in this situation. Even our dragons are tired! Let's _go!"_

Moordryd shook his head numbly, still shivering. Decepshun continued huddling close to him. Swayy growled. "L-look," she snapped, "I bet your father is busy and s-s-snug in his citadel, warm! You, however, are not warm! You're f-fr-freezing! In fact, I'm freezing, Cain's freezing, Decepshun's freezing, C-Coershun's freezing…you get it! We're all freezing, we're all tired, so which is better? Huh?"

"Gee, you left out the p-part where we're c-c-completely drenched!" Cain yelled, his teeth chattering.

"Shut it, Cain!" Swayy barked. "We have to go!"

Moordryd glowered at her. "Alright, fine!" he seethed. He used his remaining strength to close the doors of the dragon van and peeked behind the corner of their current location.

Bad idea. A light suddenly flashed in his eyes. "Hey, you!" a Dragon City Security officer cried, holding a small turquoise flash light.

"I knew those dragon cries were coming from here!" a second voice called, also carrying a flash light and standing next to two blue bipedal dragons.

"Call Captain Faier!" the first officer ordered. "You, freeze and put your hands up!"

"Scales!" Moordryd shrieked, his eyes widening as he quickly popped his head back from the corner. "Dragon City Security spotted us!"

"You mean _you!"_ Swayy shot back as the turquoise Sonic-class dragon hauling the van magged her on. "Didn't I tell you to be careful?"

"Shut it, Swayy!" Moordryd hissed as Decepshun magged him onto her back. He placed his helmet on as Decepshun sped forward, followed by Coershun and Cain, the dragon-van, and the two Dragon City Security officers.

"Why are we even taking the van with us?" Swayy groaned. "Let's just leave it!"

"Leave it and you're being downgraded on your position," Moordryd snarled, looking behind him and pulling out a turquoise disrupter flash. He let Decepshun slow down, getting Cain and Swayy in front of him before he tossed the explosive behind him. There was a large _boom,_ followed by the sounds of coughing and dragons slamming the breaks.

More sirens began ringing out as Captain Faier and two more officers were on top of them, this time on the buildings with balance gear on hand. "Stop right now, or we'll use force!" he bellowed, and nodded at his two officers, who had nets.

Moordryd turned back to Swayy and Cain. "Speed up!" he ordered, and pulled on the brakes, causing Decepshun to halt and puddle water to spray everywhere. He then focused his eyes on Faier and the others. "Well?" he taunted, coughing slightly.

Two nets were shot forward, and Decepshun sprinted forward again, nearly sleeping as they met up with Cain and Coershun. "There's a cross section up ahead if we keep going!" Moordryd told his lieutenant. "I want you to keep going forward with Swayy, while I head down and turn left, which if I keep on the street, will take me back to you guys!"

"But what about Dragon City Security?" Cain shrieked, looking nervously behind him.

"I'll meet you up ahead, and take care of them once I get there," Moordryd explained. "In the meantime, make yourself useful, and take care of them while I'm not at the party, got it?"

Cain nodded. "And make sure they don't get to the dragon van or Swayy!" Moordryd added, reaching the cross section and steering Decepshun to the right, quickly steering her to the left again and entering a straightaway alley behind a large building. He coughed again and slammed his feet down on a pedal, activating a safe (he hoped) level six red thrusting gear, speeding up momentarily. He heard the sirens getting closer, and pulled out a set of green trapping gear from his saddle.

There was a turn nearing, and Moordryd maneuvered, shooting out four nets in quick precision and smirking as he saw two officers and their dragons getting ensnared. "Gee, I'm really sorry about that," Moordryd mocked. "Maybe I can make up for that." And he bypassed them and headed after Cain and Swayy, chuckling as he tossed a black disrupter flash behind him.

He started coughing again and grimaced. This was gonna be long.

- - -

Mortis did let Artha and Kitt go on his training course, but he kept them strictly at different levels. While Artha was still on a level ten training course for some time now, Kitt was on a level four, and Lance didn't have Fracshun and wasn't allowed to participate in Mortis' difficult challenges yet, so he sat down and played his Battleground Dragon VIDDGame instead with his friend Spratt and Dragon Flare leader Pyrrah's little brother Sparkk.

"So, how's Fracshun doing?" Spratt asked through a comm-link in the game, his face appearing on a small box at the corner of the screen.

Lance shrugged. "I'm not sure exactly, but I do know that's he kind of okay," he replied.

"You know, this is getting kind of bad," Spratt mused, a somewhat distant look in his eyes. "Just two days ago, my sister's dragon suffered the same thing. Good thing Bumpyr didn't get it, whatever this virus is."

"What about your crew, Sparkk?" Lance wondered, moving his controls around.

The boy's face popped up next to Spratt's face. "Not good for the Dragon Flares, either!" he replied. "We had five of our Magma-class dragon that got the virus."

"Five dragons?" Spratt gasped. "That doesn't sound very drac."

"Now the crews have to be careful with gear and be very careful at this time," Sparkk noted. "I mean, it's impossible to tell if gear is infected!"

"It is?" Spratt said nervously. "But how? So you can't tell if the gear will pass a virus to your dragon? Is it, like, some kind of random virus? Like getting struck by lightning? Huh? Hey, Lance? Sparkk? C'mon, help me out here!"

"Unfortunately, yeah," Lance said with a frown. "Uh, do you know what other crews have had these problems, Sparkk?"

"How should I know?" Sparkk responded. "Pyrrah and some of the other members haven't been to a Down City Council meeting yet, though there's one tomorrow. I'll fill you in then."

"Hey, my sister's watching the news," Spratt observed, his eyes shifting away momentarily before he returned to the game. His eyes held a bit of anger in them as he announced what he just heard. "I think the Dragon Eyes are at one of their dragon thefts again in Down City!"

"Not the Dragon Eyes!" Sparkk said.

Lance looked up from his VIDDGame. "Artha!" he called, not very surprisingly at the same time with Mortis. He looked at Mortis with a small smile. "Uh, you go first," he told the Dragon Priest.

Mortis looked at Artha, who was letting Beau cool off with an aqua hydro-pakk. "Artha, according to the news, there's a dragon theft occuring in Down City!"

"Lemme guess…Moordryd and his little gang?" Artha joked.

Mortis simply stared at him. "Yeah, I thought so," Artha said slowly, shifting his eyes away as he hopped on Beau and pulled out his amulet. "Let's get busy, boy! Release the dragon!"

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	9. A Crazy Chase

**Twisted Shadows**

* * *

Dragon City Security was stuck. The Dragon Eyes had disappeared. It wasn't really that big of a shock; with a bunch of disrupter mines that set off and a flash stick to add on, it would be easy for even a colorful dragon to hide.

Meanwhile Moordryd, Swayy, and Cain were hiding in an alleyway. "They won't find us here," Swayy noted, who was on watch.

"And it was luck that the van manages to fit in the alley here," Cain muttered, one hand gently rubbing Coershun's back as both shivered. He coughed. "We need to get out of here, fast."

Moordryd coughed again, nodding and trying to keep his eyes open while Decepshun kept near him cautiously. "We have to get Dragon City Security away from us," he said, finding it a bit hard to talk with a sore throat. "Once they seem far enough, we burst out, make an instant U-turn in front of this building without slipping on anything, and from there head to the Dragon Eye compound. If we lag too long behind here, we're scaled. Get on Coershun, Cain, we have to get ready. Swayy, put on your helmet."

The transport Sonic-class dragon magged her helmet over to her, and she put it on. She peeked around the corner. For a moment, the only sounds they could hear were the officers conversing, which gave way to some plans, until Swayy barked, "Now!" and was magged back on the Sonic-class dragon as they sped off.

"Stop!" Faier yelled, turning around.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and the pink-haired man turned his head to see the Dragon Booster. "Am I late?" he questioned coyly.

"Yes, a bit too late," Faier grumbled. "What's our plan?"

"I'm thinking you and the other four should go follow them and go straight ahead," Dragon Booster said, and pointed to the top. "I'll be on the buildings, just right above them, then at the nearest place without any breakaways or escapes I'll stop in front of them and we'll have them trapped."

"Good idea," Faier said. He looked at his four officers. "Move out!" he barked, and sprinted off.

Artha looked at Beau. "Ready, boy?" he asked, patting the side of his head.

Beau grunted and mag-jumped up, speeding forwards and leaping when there were cracks and falls. Artha looked down to see if he was catching up.

Cain was the first to spot the shadow that was looming behind them. He looked up and screamed. "It's the Dragon Booster, Moordryd!" he yelled, pointing.

"Oh, what? What?" Moordryd cried, gritting his teeth. He glared up at the Dragon Booster and shot two green nets at him, but the Dragon Booster simply ducked, dodging one and slapping one with his jakk-stick, which rebounded and attached itself to the van harmlessly.

All of a sudden Rancydd joined them from a right street. He was on another turquoise dragon and was wearing a heavy Will of the Dragon jacket. "So, what's your situation?" he asked.

"Dragon theft," Swayy said, jabbing a thumb at the dragon van she was hauling. "If we stop and let you help, we're toast. Where were you?"

"Gear theft," Rancydd replied, holding up a level eight blue star gear.

"Nice. Hope it's safe. So how many cops on your tail?" Cain wondered.

"About three or four, I can't remember," the Dragon Eye thief responded. "How many after you guys?"

"Well, we have five cops, including Captain Faier, and to top it off, we have the Dragon Booster chasing after us," Cain replied with a wry smile. "Looks like we're attracting company. How nice. Hey, by the way, can I have your jacket?"

"Save it for another time, guys!" Swayy yelled, and yelped as she was nearly snagged by a trapping gear net. "Okay, let's use that star gear now!"

Rancydd passed her the gear, and instead of magging it onto the turquoise dragon she rode, she switched it on and looked behind her. "Moordryd, move away!" she yelled.

Moordryd, who wasn't in the mood for speaking, did as told by moving Decepshun to the left. Swayy shot a few shuriken stars behind her and watched with a smirk as two scarred Faier's dragon and caused him to slow down.

Artha gritted his teeth, speeding up. "Hey, you guys better stop, or else!" he warned.

Moordryd opened his mouth. "Or else what? You'll – " he started, but went into another coughing fit. "Okay, Decepshun, slow down a bit, please."

Decepshun grunted in confusion. "If you guys slow down, you'll be caught," Cain said. "If only we had some red venting gear or blue balance gear."

Artha slit his eyes fiercely. "Moordryd, if you guys don't stop right now, you're gonna regret it!" he yelled.

"Shut up already!" Moordryd retorted, shooting three nets at him. His timing was off; the first one Dragon Booster ducked again, the second was too slow and missed, and the third was off aim. The fourth net couldn't be shot; Moordryd was out of nets. He groaned. "Swayy, do you have refills?" he yelled.

Swayy shot some more shuriken at Dragon City Security, who were catching up. "Sorry, I ran out this morning, in the race before the closure!" she replied.

Rancydd pulled out a green impact bomb and tossed it behind him, and he smirked as he heard an explosion and groans and screams from behind him. "Looks like it'll take some time before they catch up," he smirked.

"Why didn't you use that before?" Cain groaned.

Swayy shot a few stars at Artha, who dodged, but a star managed to put a rather long gash on Beau's side, and the black and gold dragon gave a yelp, losing his balance before quickly regaining it.

Beau growled and sped up, furious at letting the star get him. Swayy continued looking forward and tried to find some other way to detect the Dragon Booster's presence. She listened for footsteps; no, that wouldn't do, with the other footsteps of all the dragons mingling in. She saw his shadow edging near. It definitely looked like the black and gold dragon of legend, and the Dragon Booster.

According to the shadow's length, the Dragon Booster should be way behind her. She shot a shuriken star in the direction of her observations and continued focusing forward. They should be reaching a bridge and a cross section soon. The Dragon Booster and his dragon's shadow was overshadowing her, and now she observed the Dragon Booster lifting up his arm and reaching forward…

The gear suddenly turned completely black, and Swayy yelped, dropping the gear and almost making it hit the ground until Moordryd caught it. "What is your problem, idiot?" he yelled, catching up.

"The gear," Swayy gasped. "It's…"

"It's in one piece!" Moordryd drawled, holding it up. Swayy blinked. It looked like the way it was before it turned completely black.

"Well, then, I guess it was nothing," Swayy breathed. "The gear turned black, that's all, but only for half a second. Maybe it was Dragon Booster's shadow casting over us." She pointed at the Dragon Booster's shadow in front of them.

Moordryd blinked, and started coughing again. "Rancydd, pass me another green impact bomb!" he demanded.

Rancydd did as told, making sure not to toss it, but to pass it to Swayy first so she could pass it to Moordryd. He looked up at Dragon Booster irritably and smirked, throwing the bomb at his direction.

Artha's eyes widened as he quickly released the mag-control on his saddle and flipped sideways, coming back up. "Well, that's not good," he murmured as the bomb exploded on the other side of the building. He looked back where Moordryd and the Dragon Eyes were, but they already vanished, with a bunch of disrupter mines setting off from where they were.

Beau grunted and waited for the smoke to clear on both sides, then jumped down on the first, looking around. "Scales!" Artha seethed, slamming his fist on Beau's saddle. "We lost them!"

When Faier and the other seven officers caught up, Artha broke the news to them. "They escaped, Captain Faier," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I don't blame you, Dragon Booster," Faier sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get them next time."

- - -

Vizz wanted gear checks for each Dragon Eye's gear every day, used or not used. Now, at first everybody thought he was becoming a little too cautious, but they all agreed that it was a very good idea. When something bad happened, Vizz was usually the first one to start becoming paranoid, second with Cain.

"So, Rancydd told me that you three managed to pass off a dragon theft with Captain Faier, half a dozen Dragon City Security officers _and_ the Dragon Booster on your tail in the pouring rain," Vizz marveled, checking Moordryd's thrusting gear. "Total dracness."

Moordryd, who was lying on the couch, opened his mouth, but Cain shot him a dark look, usually the one that Moordryd would shoot Cain when he wanted him to shut up. Moordryd ignored his friend, replying, "But we only managed to steal two dragons!"

"Hey, two dragons at this time of this virus, plus with Dragon City Security around here, is pretty drac enough for me, Moordryd," Vizz said. He put aside the gear. "Okay, clear with the green trapping gear, the green ramming gear, the black energy whip, and the red thrusting gear. Also, your black shadow gear, your white rappel gear, your blue turning gear, and your white aero gear is good too."

Moordryd nodded and coughed, shivering. "Looks like you caught a virus yourself, called a flu," Vizz observed, adjusting the visor of his goggles.

Swayy rolled her eyes. "He's stubborn," she muttered, handing Vizz her green ramming gear. "Stupid guy managed to get all of a sick." She sniffed. "Anybody got tissue?"

Cain gave her a whole box. "I need it back," Cain said. "I've got a cough and a cold."

"How nice, now half of us may be all sick," Vizz muttered, putting the gear aside. "Maybe we should take a day off."

"First off, you're not the boss around here, remember?" Moordryd said with all the strength he could muster. He folded his arms. "I'm the boss, and I say what we do, when we do it, and, well, not so much as why we're doing it. Something you two need to remember." He glanced at Cain and Swayy.

Cain folded his arms haughtily and Swayy looked away angrily, handing the stolen blue star gear to Vizz. "Second of all, since I'm the leader, we're heading out for another dragon theft tomorrow, and we're going to do better," Moordryd continued. "I don't want my father getting upset again."

"Yeah, we know how you feel after he yells at you," Vizz replied absentmindedly, running a scanner through the blue gear.

Moordryd growled. "What am I supposed to be feeling, hurt?" he scoffed. "No, I'm just getting irritated with all his lectures. When he's upset, he lectures me with the same lecture from yesterday and the day before and so on. It's tiring. _That's_ what I feel, tired."

He gripped his jacket sleeves tighter; he was cold, as Swayy said, freezing. Also, thinking about his father wasn't making him feel any better. In the past few days, Word was still nagging him about how badly Moordryd was doing, and still wanted to know what was happening, if he had the dragon of legend, if he destroyed the Dragon Booster, if he found the person causing the virus breakout, et cetera, et cetera.

"And that's what you're going to feel even more if you're going to go see him now," Cain pointed out as Moordryd stood up. "Rain has managed to hit every part of Dragon City. You'll just end up getting pneumonia!"

"He's right, you know," Swayy said.

The Dragon Eye leader groaned. "Look, guys, mind your own business, and just watch over the compound, will you?" Moordryd replied, walking out of the room.

The doors hissed behind him, and he just missed the sound of Vizz's scanner suddenly beeping.

- - -

Moordryd stepped into the control room of Paynn Incorporated, and wasn't surprised a bit when he saw Word staring ahead at his monitors of what was happening in Dragon City. He stepped forward, and eyed Word's large chair and his desk. He decided to sit down, even though it may cost him for disobedience or something.

When Word didn't say anything and kept staring ahead, Moordryd sighed and announced, "Father, I'm here!"

"Yes, I knew that a while ago when you stepped inside," Word responded. Moordryd shook his head with a small growl, wondering why he even bothered. "So, did you find out who is causing the virus breakout in Dragon City?"

"No, Father, I still didn't," Moordryd replied, thanking the Magna Draconis a million times that there was heating in his father's building.

Word sighed and shook his head slowly, looking down in an obvious dismayed manner. For a moment there was silence, except for the rain smacking against the large, surrounding glass windows, echoing throughout the large control room. Finally his father asked, "So, do you have any new dragons for my wraith army?"

"Yes, Father," Moordryd responded, trying to maintain consciousness.

"Good." Word turned his head towards his son, a small smile on his mouth. "And how many did you manage to steal? Ten? Six?"

Moordryd's eyes shifted around nervously. "Well, er…two," he said.

Word's smile vanished. "I see," Word said. He gave a long, exasperated sigh, and turned his attention back on his monitors. "And I suppose you're going to tell me that you have Dragon City Security, the Dragon Booster, and that oh-so-horrible rain we're having to excuse your laziness."

Moordryd, wanting to object, especially to the "laziness" bit, simply nodded, not in the mood to argue right now. He waited for the expected lecture, but again, the sound of heavy rain was the only sound he could hear. It slightly surprised him as he looked up to see Word still staring away. "Well?" Moordryd asked.

Word didn't look away. "Well, what?" he questioned in reply. "Oh, you mean another monotonous speech?"

"Well…yes," Moordryd mumbled, afraid he said the wrong thing. "Aren't you mad?"

"Oh, well, yes, of course, my son," Word replied. "In fact, I'm very, very furious right now."

Moordryd winced. "But then again," his father added, "what else should I expect?"

Now that was worse than another lecture. Moordryd was about to stand up and start yelling back, explaining all the reasons that he wasn't useless, but right now, it wasn't going to happen. "I'll try harder next time," Moordryd simply responded, stifling a yawn as his head slowly lowered to the desk.

"You better," Word snapped. "What, you think I _like_ every moment I have to waste my breath on you? I'm not doing this for my health, Moordryd. Are we clear on that?"

No answer. "Moordryd?" Word repeated, turning his head towards his son.

Moordryd coughed slightly in his sleep. "Moordryd!" Word barked, walking over to him and giving him a shake.

Moordryd continued slumbering on. Word gave another disapproving gaze down at his son. "And now you're sick," he muttered. "Now how are you supposed to do anything these weeks? Well, fine, I guess I _have _to offer you some sort of sympathy. But remember what I said, and I'll gladly repeat it to you, mind you, only once, when you wake up."

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	10. A Complex Observation

**Twisted Shadows**

**AN:**Ha. Did you really think I would let this fic die? Not a chance. Okay, sure, so I procrastinate for months, maybe even years, but that doesn't mean I let my discontinued published fics hanging. So, behold, Part 10 of Twisted Shadows. Enjoy. :)

* * *

It took only two days for Moordryd's flu to subside. After that, he felt rather composed, walking proudly up to the Dragon Eye compound's security room, where Cain was sitting on a chair, trying to activate their new security cameras set up. He frowned and banged his fist against the monitors while Vizz read an instruction manual.

This still didn't faze things for the leader of the Dragon Eyes. "So how long before you can fix up the security settings of the compound?" Moordryd asked.

Instead, Vizz yanked out a small data board hidden in the instruction manual. "There was a virus in the stolen star gear, boss," he announced.

Instantly Moordryd's calmness dispersed. "What?" he yelled, yanking the information from Vizz's gloved hand. His eyes scanned the analysis before he looked back up. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, frustrated.

"You were sick," Cain mumbled, still paying attention to the monitors. "You told us not to concern you until you were feeling better."

Moordryd gave a loud groan. "I should shoot you!" he cried, tossing away the data board. "Something like _this_ should be reported! Immediately! You do realize that we're one of the suspects for the cause of all this, _right?_"

"At the time, you weren't there to hear our report," Vizz pointed out, backing away slowly.

"So it _slipped your mind? _You _imbecile!"_ He sighed and stormed out.

"Whoa," Vizz gasped, blinking in shock as he adjusted his goggles. "Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed."

"I'll say," Cain agreed, looking up. "These past few days, Moordryd's temper is really flaring up easily. If you pay more attention, you can just see that gray cloud hovering over his head…"

"Well, let's see how his temper works when we go to a rescheduled Down City council meeting," Vizz murmured, then turned back to the instruction manual and smote his forehead. "Oh, so _that's _how you rewire dead circuits!"

- - -

While Artha and Kitt were out somewhere in Dragon City, Parm was in Mortis' Dragon Temple, continuing to analyze even more information on the virus. Mortis saw him, and approached him as the young genius, who still had his face in his VIDDComp. "Take a break, Parmon," the Dragon Priest suggested, placing a hand on the genius' shoulder "You've investigated this case enough."

Parm stared at him in shock. "Have you any idea how serious this is, Mortis?" he retorted. "We _must_ solve this case. If only Artha was here right now. He didn't give me enough information on whatever happened yesterday on the streets."

"I believe Artha is on a date with Kitt. That doesn't seem important; you can contact him via comm-link."

Parm shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't want to interrupt their fun. They did enough already."

Mortis lifted his head in acknowledgement of the boy's respect for his friends. He frowned when he saw an immense amount of digital coding scrolling past the green holographic screen of the computer. "What are you doing?" he said.

Parm immediately replied without any thought. Realizing what he had just said made him jump in the air with a high-pitched shriek as he turned to a very aghast Mortis.

"_Hacking? _Into _what?"_

"Er…" Parm stuttered, trembling as Mortis towered over him. "It's…"

"Wait, when did you learn to hack?"

"…would you believe me if I said I knew some people at my mother's Tech-Academy – "

"Forget I asked. Now, who's system are you hacking into?"

"…D.C.M - "

"Do you realize how much trouble you're getting yourself into, Parmon?" Mortis barked as Parm cowered. "You're committing a felony against a local high-security system! To make things worse, when the security's already higher than usual!"

"Look, Mortis, I need to do this," Parm responded firmly, with authority. "The only way we are ever going to figure out how this virus will be stopped is to go into the main source: the hospital. They take care of all of the victims of the dragons. They should have enough information to make a more detailed hypothesis about what's in our hands."

Mortis groaned and placed his face in his hand. "Parmon, do you realize what you're risking at the moment with this crime?" he said. "We can't use evil for good, as they say."

Parm stared into the dark eyes of Mortis' helmet. "Sometimes, evil isn't always evil if it's for a worthwhile cause," he said, before turning back to the computer as Mortis walked away.

Access to the mainframe. Finally, his reward for those past five hours in a vain (yet barely successful) attempt at activating a different IP address, temporarily disabling the security system, finding the mainframe.

Now, to find all the files related to the sick dragons.

Parm typed in another command, and was greeted by an overwhelming amount of files. He saw one labeled "Fracshun". A wave of pity crossed him. He checked the amount of files he was looking at –

Magna Draconis, that was a lot.

The redhead sighed as he checked several of the files. This wasn't going anywhere. All he found was that most of the targeted dragons were still in unstable conditions and further investigation. Searching up 'virus' wasn't going to get you anywhere, unless you want to search through a million files for the right one –

_Dates._

He looked at the differing dates on each dragon's file. It stated when they arrived at the medical center. The other glorious thing was how it was listed in date created, from newest to oldest.

_Let's do that virus search, _Parm thought triumphantly.

His fingers skimmed the keyboard. As expected, an even more overwhelming number of file names appeared on the screen. Parm quickly assumed that three's the charm.

He clicked on the third file. A sense of power and victory overcame him as a triumphant, and creepily malevolent grin crossed his face. "Bingo," he whispered to himself, and began his research.

- - -

"No, on second thought, I want the Draconee-Crunch bar instead!"

The black-haired cashier groaned loudly as she pulled her hand away from the bag of Dracee-Bits she was about to get. "Four words, kid," she hissed, clawing thin air with one hand. "Make. Up. Your. Mind!"

"Why did I agree to do this…?" Parm moaned, burying his face in his hands. "Just give him the one with the most sugar!"

Lance huffed and folded his arms in a very sophisticated manner. "This takes time, you know!" he retorted, looking at both Parm and Lii. "Your choice of candy will affect how hyper you get."

Lii's head collided with the counter. "I need a vacation," she muttered under her breath.

"And may I inquire why?" Parm said, looking for a change in conversation, _besides _candy.

He rolled his eyes when the girl looked up with a raised eyebrow. "Inquire," he began. "To ask."

"Low business," Lii sighed, resting her cheek against her fist. "Other people too. The vacation thing, I mean. Like, permanent. Less infected gear or whatever in the foreign places."

"What, nobody's buying anything anymore?" Parm said.

"That's dumb," Lance interjected. He grinned at Lii. _"I'm_ still buying."

"Buy faster," Lii snapped, shifting her eyes towards the younger redhead. "Yep. Ever since this whole virus thing happened, the money's going way down. Profits are falling faster than racers off their dragons. Business is bad, as you know, especially for gear. Now gear industries are going bankrupt and Work Town people are in jeopardy."

She looked up to see Lance and Parm staring open-mouthed at her. "Money's my thing," she explained with a small smirk. "Words aren't." She snatched the Draconee-Crunch bar off the racks. When she saw Lance with his fingers rubbing his temple, she rolled her eyes and put it back.

"Well, not to worry," Parm said. "I'm sure Dragon City Medical is coming up with a solution right now."

"D.C.M's got _nothing,"_ Lii retorted. "All they know is 'oh, virus. Let's spend all this time investigating the main problem of it instead of trying to cure the dragons'."

"Can I have the – " Lance started.

"Talking. Wait."

Lance muttered something under his breath as Parm shook his head. This girl needed to learn more. "For your information, they _can't_ cure the virus yet, if they don't know what's wrong!" Parm said.

"Then what's taking them so long?" Lii countered. "It's been a month now. They should've found _at least_ a way to stall and stop the virus from infecting other dragons and gear!"

Parm paused at this sudden observation. "I know more about it than the simple standards of what it is!" he argued.

"How?"

"…I have friends within the D.C.M. They know how many dragons suffered, and how many died."

"Big deal," Lii said. "The death rates? Only 20 of the infected dragons."

Parm suddenly closed his mouth, interested with what she had to say. When she didn't say anything and continued to stare in confusion at Parm, he groaned. "Continue," he said.

"Scales," Lii cursed. "Can't _you_ pick up on it so I don't have to talk so much? Do you realize how carefully the deaths of the dragons were? The guy who robbed from the Dragon City bank and stole a dragon had that dragon die. That racer a few weeks ago with the tentacle gear died. This seems to be mainly targeted at criminals."

"You know, now that I think about it…" Parm mused. "But why?"

"Viruses now follow justice, since people can't do it anymore," Lii drawled with another casual eye roll.

"I don't like your attitude, by the way. And, er, yes, that's what it seems. But only perhaps since it's being passed on with a certain source of draconium – "

"Question," Lii suddenly butted in. The expression on her face showed a twinge of intrigue, not the casual laid-back manner of the snarky, anti-social cashier. "Your nurse friends…did they say there was a source of draconium?"

Parm froze.

_Nowhere _in the file did it mention a draconium source of any kind. Which meant the virus was biased, but in a way it wasn't.

_But…how could that be?_

"Okay, I'll take the Draconee-Yum bar," Lance's voice piped up.

Lii reached for it, then quickly stuffed one of each kind into a bag and tossed it at Lance. "For my best customer," the half brunette half bluenette quickly said. She turned towards Parm. "Twenty-seven drakkals."

Parm groaned and glared at a grinning Lance.

- - -

Usually Moordryd could tolerate noise; no, wait, there were conditions when he couldn't. Now was probably a bad time for noise, due to the fact that he still felt rather tired and stressed.

The hubbub in the Down City Council of Twelve was the current thing bothering him.

He groaned, sitting with his arms folded on the desk and his head rested on them. It was also a bad time for noise because it wouldn't stop and it wasn't to his slightest interest, yet. It only covered the issues he already knew about.

"There is no logical explanation for this!" a voice, probably Kudgyl's, cried. "You're taking it on us that green draconium is responsible for all this?"

"I second Kudgyl," another voice; Grip of the Dragon leader Phistus', no doubt, agreed. "Remember, all colors and types of gear have been infected somehow, and we ourselves have no idea about the infecting of green draconium!"

"Yeah, yeah, _please_ get to the point already," Vociferous' voice drawled.

"That _is_ the point, you ignorant fool," Phistus growled, glaring at Vociferous, who shrugged casually and sat back in his chair.

"I mean, what is the point of _why_ the dragons are getting infected," Vociferous replied.

"What?" Moordryd started, his head snapping upwards instantly.

Vociferous gave one of his fox-like smirks. "See?" he said smugly. "Not even you, Moordryd Paynn, thought about that."

"Oh, well, forgive me then," Moordryd said through a false smile of gratitude, though his eyes narrowed and the phrase "I wanna kill you" echoed in his head. "So, what have you come up with?"

"I dunno. That's why I'm asking the council!" The pink-haired man rolled his eyes at Moordryd, like it was completely obvious.

"I wanna kill you," Moordryd growled, the thought that ricocheted in Moordryd's mind finally escaping through his lips.

"Enough!" Phistus snapped, gripping his large hammer. "This meeting isn't about your little, unimportant rivalries. It's about this virus, this worrisome breakout in the city."

"It got five of my Magma-class dragons _and_ my hauling Bull-class dragon!" the Dragon Flares leader Pyrrah yelled, her eyes blazing with anger.

"That's nothing!" a man named Dorsull retorted. "The Dragon Fish not only lost six of our dragons, but one was lost."

"So the virus is fatal?" a blue-haired lady named Shurykyn said as she exchanged glances with her Inner Order leader Khatah, Chukks, and Sarjo.

"Even the crew elders puzzle over this," Khatah sighed, looking dejected. "Truly, this is a mystery."

"A mystery that needs to be solved very soon!" Wulph barked, rather annoyed (no surprise, really, as the Army of the Dragon leader was usually annoyed). "We're doing nothing but fussing and arguing while there are issues about this virus that need to be resolved!"

"Wulph is right," Phistus said. "As Vociferous said earlier, we have discussed the how, but we haven't discussed the _why."_

"The why…" Moordryd murmured, in the debate now. "The why can't always be predicted right. But, how far the why will go is truthful. Already, over a hundred dragons suffered the virus. Several of those dragons have died, say, 20 of the infected population, but it seems biased to criminals. This is, obviously, a concerning amount already."

"As you said, obviously," Hazaard said. "Paynn is right. It's all a matter of how far this'll go. There's this rumor that this isn't natural; something may be controlling the virus and how it spreads."

"But that's impossible!" Pyrrah argued with her lieutenant. "How can that be?"

"Has anybody ever thought of _control gear_ yet?" Marianis pointed out.

The seven crews currently there that meeting turned their attention to the Dragon Fish leader. "Think about it," she continued explaining. "It's too balanced to be natural; there must be someone behind this. Control gear will make dragons do anything. It's also black draconium, which means black draconium is the best use to infect. The company I know best who uses black draconium for gear is Paynn Incorporated…"

"I object!" Moordryd cried, instant accusations and complaints being targeted at him as Swayy, Rancydd and Cain slowly backed away from him. "My father and I myself do not have that experience of infection."

"So, you admit that you don't have experience to infect a multitude of dragons, but you _can_ infect," Marianis said, a triumphant smirk on her face.

"Shut up, Marianis!" Moordryd yelled, on his feet now and glaring at the Dragon Fish leader, his eyes flickering with detest as more complaints were hurled at him.

"How do you know so much about the why then, Moordryd?" Marianis countered.

"Now you're being paranoid," Moordryd snapped angrily. "It was a well-thought prediction! Can I blame it if I'm smarter than all of you fools?"

He took the time to let the rest of the angry protests come at him before he continued. "There is no draconium source for the virus!" he said. "Dragon City Medical _never_ mentioned a draconium source! This rules out black draconium to be the cause, and yes," – here he gave Phistus a look – "green draconium. That means draconium-related infections are crossed out."

"Well, apparently, you're just so smart, and so is your old man!" Vociferous spoke up in argument. "I wouldn't be surprised if you came up with a way to infect gear without us looking!"

"You're forgetting about your crew, Vociferous," Rancydd retorted.

"What about the Dragon Fish?" Pyrrah suggested, glaring at them. "You know well about events like this."

"Take the blame on me, will you, Pyrrah?" Marianis snapped back, clenching her fists. "The person who accuses usually did it!"

_I gotta remember that,_ Moordryd noted mentally.

More voices rang out in protest and agreement and almost everyone there was on his or her feet. "You don't look very well," Cain said, glancing at Moordryd.

"Headache," Moordryd mumbled back.

"Since when does the out-of-control events and noise give you a headache?" Swayy scoffed. "I thought you liked all that."

"Since I didn't get enough rest last night, I'm not feeling drac, got it?" Moordryd responded. "That was one of the hardest dragon thefts we managed to pull off last night. I expect better."

"You mean your _father_ expects better," Cain pointed out.

Moordryd tensed. "Yeah…whatever," he said. Already Word had given him more lectures than he could handle, almost every minute, noting every mistake he did.

"You haven't found what I'm looking for yet, and every single day you fail what you must do," Word had told him yesterday. That day Moordryd had to dodge a paperweight that was thrown at him. "I'm tired of this, Moordryd," Word had said when he woke up at his father's citadel. "Do better, or you'll regret every single moment of your life."

"Stupid Phistus," Moordryd muttered, wanting to take his mind off his father. "Can he shut them up already?"

"Hey, wanna play Scales?" Cain asked, tapping his shoulder as he held a hand of cards. He turned back to Rancydd and Swayy as he slapped down three cards face-down on an empty chair. "Three sevens," he announced.

"Scales," Swayy said.

Moordryd placed his head back on the desk and groaned as Cain frowned and grabbed the pile of cards placed on the chair.

- - -

Parm wasn't the only one that did a little hacking.

The gray eyes moved back and forth with intrigue as they studied the research on the file about the virus. Word shook his head with disgust and pressed a button on his control panel. He was immediately logged off the D.C.M mainframe, and his monitors returned to normal, with images of the happenings of Dragon City.

His eyes narrowed in frustration. _Where are you…?_ he thought.

This mastermind behind this whole virus fiasco was indeed a worthy nemesis against Word's current plans. The unsung overlord still aimed to make that mastermind his ally.

However, as Word dug deeper into the situation, this person could just as well turn against him. Perhaps he or she would try to sabotage his company's business, even if it was already dropping in profits rapidly.

The reminiscence about his industry's situation made Word scowl. He was playing with somebody dangerous. A menace. Yes, take the advantage of becoming their collaborators if you can, so you can pull off whatever it is you need to pull off, but at what risk?

Like many others, Word had noticed the death rates, and how focused they were on criminals. If, perhaps, this deviant was actually harming dragons for the better will of Word's opposition…?

No. No, that was impossible. Why would that person be targeting other innocent dragons then? Maybe…a red herring…?

_This issue is very, very perplexing,_ Word thought grimly. _Am I prepared for it?_

He pressed a button on his earpiece. "This is Word Paynn," he said. "I want you to up the security maintenance of Paynn Incorporated. Security cameras; install them _everywhere._ I am not exaggerating; the vents, the bathrooms, I mean it. I want guards on specified posts 24/7."

"I, er, really don't think we need this, Mr. Paynn…" the voice on the other line suggested meekly.

"Do not question my orders or you'll be fired!" Word snarled. "Now do as I say!"

"Y-yes, Mr. Paynn, sir!" the voice stammered, and the conversation was cut off.

Word grumbled and rested a claw on his forehead. Turning to his left, he sensed the movement of his wraith dragons. He heard a small, menacing growl from one of them. Claws scratched against the floor.

Word chuckled, comforted by the wraith's show of strength.

_I still have the upper hand. My new rival won't be able to double-cross me now…_

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	11. A Startling Event

**Twisted Shadows**

**A/N:** I have heard the masses. I have heard the group assassination threats. And I offer my dearest apologies, really. I'm aware of what inconsistency does and how it's not good, especially for a good _five years_. I however have quite busy with other things lately, so I apologize if I haven't had the time to give you guys the pleasure of Twisted Shadows and the Dragon Booster fandom.

But for you, my fans, and my love for the series even if it is no longer as strong as before – this fic was built on that zeal, and that's what makes this the gem of my Dragon Booster fanworks and remembers my love from before. Enjoy Chapter 11, and soon - very soon, I promise...Chapter 12. :)

* * *

"So, Moordryd, how did the dragon thefts go today? Better not be as bad as the two days before, when Dragon City Security hunted you down _again _before the little round table meeting,and when you found the infected gear."

"I'll tell you when you release me from this net."

Word arched his eyebrow as he turned his head to see Moordryd pinned to a wall, a green trapping gear net sprawled over him. "No, no, I think you can tell me if I keep you there," Word mused, turning around. "Besides, it's been proven to work on trapped hostages."

Moordryd tried hard not to begin ranting. This whole super duper high-security maintenance thing that resulted from his father's sudden paranoia was really beginning to scrape his scales. _What a way to welcome somebody you want your ally to be._ "It's impossible to get more than two dragons," he grumbled in response. "There's hardly any left." _Kind of depressing too when you think about it,_ but Moordryd didn't mention it.

"You can't be serious," Word replied, his voice dangerously low.

"Let me rephrase what I just said," Moordryd said with a risen tone in voice. "It's impossible to get more than two dragons. There's hardly any left." The younger Paynn gave an exaggerated gasp. "By the Magna Draconis! That probably explains why I can't find any for you!"

He froze as Word gritted his teeth. _Moordryd Drakkus Paynn, what is wrong with you? _Moordryd self-scolded as his father approached him.

"Don't be so impertinent with me, Moordryd," Word advised. "You know very well what happens when I'm angry."

_Obviously, yes, who doesn't?_ "Father, I apologi – " Moordryd started.

"Don't bother," Word interjected, raising his clawed hand. "I understand." He sensed Moordryd giving him a look. "Quit staring, my son. It's rude. The person behind this is clearly toying with us. Haven't you found out who he or she is yet?"

"Not yet," Moordryd said. "Look, it's just as hard finding this guy as it is finding good dragons!"

"No, not quite," Word retorted. "If he or she was merciless, he or she would be leaving some for us to pick. But it seems he or she has picked the good ones before we could." He placed a clawed finger on his chin. Turning around, he said, "Tomorrow, you'll go hunting, finding as many dragons as you can, even those belonging to their owners. However, you won't bring any dragons back to me."

Moordryd blinked at these instructions. "Think," Word said, catching on to Moordryd's confusion. "Mid-City's dragon population has dropped amazingly, and Sun City's just starting to go near what they've suffered. The only place aside Precinct and the deserted wastelands of Loane that hasn't majorly dropped in their dragon population is Work Town, however, Work Town's population has dropped, because of what?"

"The gear industry, obviously," Moordryd replied, arching one side of his brow. "Where is this going?"

Word gave a smile. "How many citizens are left putting gear on their dragons, at any time, anywhere?" he asked. He watched Moordryd's face change expression. "Exactly. Stalk around the Mid-City citizens and the remaining dragons with Decepshun. Get your crew to do the same thing. Don't talk to the people you're watching, and make sure they're not suspicious that you've got eyes on them. Disguise yourself if you need too. Observe what happens, especially if they get hit by any viruses."

Moordryd nodded, liking this plan of his father's. Despite the fact it was simply an excuse to pay more attention to Paynn Incorporated and its security, it required hardly any work for the Eyes besides the careful stalking, and his crew was quite good with being masters of disguise.

The teenager detected movement near his father. "My wraiths should keep a good eye around here," Word boasted. He placed a hand on what seemed like thin air; Moordryd knew it was a wraith. He heard it give a purr-like growl. Word chuckled proudly. "And they can't glitch my wraith gear one bit. It's highly advanced and tweaked just for this situation, so if this person does plan of intruding and security fails, the wraiths will find out who this person is, and take him prisoner, just as I have done with you."

Moordryd stared at the green draconium cords still ensnaring him. "Speaking of which…can you release me now?" he asked, struggling.

Word turned his head sideways, as though to observe Moordryd's current position. "I think you're good like that until the next day," he said, walking off to observe his monitors.

"_W-what?"_ Moordryd gasped, his eyes widening. He narrowed them. "Oh, let me go! I have commands to issue, remember?"

"Well, I think it's punishment enough for your failure to put some effort in, and for your sass," Word snapped, still staring ahead.

"You can't be serious, Father!" Moordryd cried, enraged.

Word turned his head. "Let me rephrase what I just said. Well, I think it's punishment enough for your failure to go beyond trying your hardest, and for your sass." The older Paynn gave an exaggerated gasp. "By the Magna Draconis! That probably explains why I'm punishing you!"

He turned back around with a smirk, his claws creaking as he folded his hands together. Moordryd cursed, shook his head in disgust, and banged his head backwards against the wall.

Tomorrow had better be a good day.

- - -

The next day, Moordryd's eye had a meeting with Artha's fist in the late afternoon. It was then that Moordryd's brain made a mental note to do something about Moordryd's mouth.

"For the love of Drakkus!" Kitt groaned, restraining Artha and throwing him into the wall of a nearby alleyway. "Artha, learn to hold your patience." She placed her hands on her hips and shifted her eyes icily at Moordryd. "Moordryd, learn to hold your tongue."

Artha immediately smacked into the wall, nearly getting his nose crushed. Dazed, he shook his head and turned back around to glare at Kitt and Moordryd, who was busy cursing under his breath while shooting daggers at his longtime rival. Artha scowled. He would not let that scale-scraping white-haired troublemaker get away with his smug slander today. He needed an excuse, and a good one at it.

"He started it!" he spat.

Brilliant. Definitely a good excuse, for sure. Artha shook his head and decided to just take the blame as Kitt rolled her eyes and scoffed, exchanging disgusted glances between her good friend and her good enemy. "I don't get boys sometimes," she sighed. "You guys let testosterone get way into your head sometimes. It leads to all this pointless need of competition. I mean, what is up with that?"

If Moordryd and Artha could hear each other's thoughts on a lady's tendency to have uncharacteristic mood swings and never make up their minds, it would probably be the only thing they could be able to agree on in a while. Kitt sighed, threw her hands up, and walked away.

"So, I heard things aren't going well between you and the racer gal," Moordryd sneered, casting a look back at the stable boy.

The responding glare Artha shot back to Moordryd could reduce stone to rubble. "It's none of your business, Paynn," he replied, reaching down to dust off his knees. It was bad enough that his first date with Kitt had been absolutely awkward, from asking her out to going back to the stables, but to have other people stick their noses in it, _especially _Moordryd…

His fist clenched as he heard Moordryd chuckle. "Well, tough luck, stable brat – gossip gets around easy," Moordryd drawled, petting Decepshun, who had occupied herself growling at a nearby rat that had run back under a dumpster. He placed a hand on his hip and leaned forward with a smug grin. "She's way out of your league, Penn, but if you want a second heartbreak, just keep doing what you're doing."

"And you're way in my range, Moordryd," Artha said dryly, stepping forward. "But if you want a second black eye, just keep doing what you're doing."

Moordryd rolled his eyes dramatically, before saluting Artha off with two fingers as Decepshun turned around and ran off. Artha gritted his teeth and shook his head again before dismissing it with his hand, turning around to walk back to Kitt, who had picked up Beau and Wyldfyr from the Dragon Wash.

"So, did you two manage to get everything all settled out now?" Kitt asked contemptuously.

Artha avoided looking at her as he hopped on Beau. "Well, you should know by now that with me and Paynn, nothing really gets settled," he grumbled back reluctantly, placing on his helmet.

Kitt just shook her head, and Artha winced. "Look," he began hesitantly. "About yesterday..."

"Look, it's..." Kitt began rather abruptly, raising her hands almost irritably, but stopped herself. Artha winced again, and Kitt gave a sigh as she rested her arms next to her. "It's not a big deal. Let's not make it a big deal either, alright, stable boy?"

Events surrounding the Furox and memories they ever had flashed into his mind, and Artha felt as though he had just gotten into a head-on collision with more than one dragon on the racetrack, except for some reason, this felt much worse. Kitt quickly changed her glum expression to that of a smile, which was about as real as plastic gear. "Hey, come on, don't look so down," she added softly. "That doesn't mean I'm gonna stop being your friend and your crewmate."

Artha smiled back with the exact same amount of honesty as her own. "Well, can't complain against that," he replied, ignoring the wrenching feeling in his gut and the scrambled thoughts in his mind.

The two were silent as they placed on their helmets and headed out back to Mid City. Beau gave a concerned grunt as he cast his eyes up towards his rider, but Artha just shook his head. "I'll be okay, boy," he murmured as he patted the dragon's head. He tried to harden his expression. "I gotta get over it anyway. We've got bigger problems at hand."

"You've got that right, Artha!"

Artha snapped to attention as Parm's face suddenly appeared on his wrist-comm's VIDDScreen. "Parm, what's up?" Artha asked as Kitt and Wyldfyr turned their attention towards him.

Parm's face looked grim. "You need to get back here as soon as you can," he replied rather solemnly. "You have _got _to see this."

- - -

"Despite many complaints against this action, Dragon City Medical has kept its back and front feet over their decision to no longer release _any _of the dragons who suffered from this mysterious pandemic, regardless of the dragon's condition," the Dragon City News reporter explained on the VIDDScreen. "More details will continue to be released related to this shocking announcement. Back to you, Dyanne."

Kitt's gloved fist slammed against Wyldfyr's saddle, momentarily startling the red dragon. "First racing, then tighter security, and now _this?!" _the girl growled as she looked up at her crew plus Mortis. "When is this gonna stop?!"

Artha, Parm, their dragons, and Mortis exchanged glances towards each other, completely unsure as to how to answer that. All eyes eventually shifted towards Lance, who sat near a small fire for marshmallow toasting. He stared glumly into the flames. "Lance, it'll be alright," Artha tried to reassure him. "Fracshun's doing alright anyway!"

"Yeah, I know, but..." Lance started, then sighed, pulling out a very charred, flaming black object from the fire. "I want him to come back home already. I really miss him."

"We know," Parm agreed, nodding his head. "We all miss him too. You know this."

Lance looked up towards Mortis, who nodded back as well, and Kitt, who gave her own reassuring smile, as did Wyldfyr, Beau, and Cyrano. Lance put on a smile for them too. "Thanks again, you guys," the redhead murmured, and held out his burnt marshmallow to Beau, who gladly relieved him of it.

"This just in, there appears to be some type of altercation occurring in Mid City!"

Everybody's heads immediately whipped up towards the VIDDScreen. Artha's eyes widened as he looked at the boxes and merchant stalls being knocked over and trampled. People were running away from this force causing this, and the shrieks of a dragon could be heard. "What the..." Artha began.

"What's going on?!" a bespectacled man with tied-back white hair on-screen cried as he poked his head from out of his ruined vendor. "Do something!"

"We can't, it's completely freaking out – oh, _scales!" _a dark-skinned man with a helmet on shouted back, before he screamed and jumped away as the wall behind him looked as though it was slammed into.

It was at that moment that the Penn Racing Crew could see something flicker – the silhouette of a dragon. The dragon appeared and disappeared in short spurts of time as it kicked and roared, eventually collapsing to the ground and howling out in pain. Beau, Wyldfyr, and Cyrano made shocked grunts as their heads jutted forward to look more closely at this. "Is that - ?!" Kitt gasped.

"A wraith dragon!" Parm finished, his eyes almost bulging out of his sockets. His surprise turned to one of befuddlement. "But...how..."

They said nothing as they all continued to keep their eyes on the screen, watching the once menacing, sinister spy-trained dragon cry out helplessly.

- - -

Word's clawed fist slammed against the metal panels of the control room. "How could this have happened?!" the man bellowed.

"Why are you asking me?" Moordryd muttered, taking off his fake glasses and placing them in a white and grey Dragon Winds jacket pocket. He reached for the band tying his hair back. "We were just there to _see _everything happen before DCM took it away. Your cameras saw everything, didn't they?"

Word glared at Moordryd coldly. "I don't like disobedience, my son," Word growled. "When I ask of something from you, you'll answer or you'll do it."

Moordryd's hand dropped from his head as he straightened his limp posture, mocking more than obeying. "They suspect us, Father," he replied.

Word's glare became dangerous. "Stop playing around, Moordryd!" he growled. Moordryd flinched, but barely. "This is not a time for foolishness! You still haven't found the reason behind all this. My _wraiths_ were infected by whatever it was!"

"You said it was some person," Moordryd pointed out.

"And as I told you, you haven't found the person yet," Word said to counter the point. "The person doing all this is the reason, especially such a skilled mastermind like this."

"Is there really a _person_ doing all this?" Moordryd replied. "What if it's _not_ a person?"

"What, are you trying to tell me this is the fault of technology?" Word shot back dryly.

"What if the virus is just natural?" Moordryd continued, ignoring his father. "Would explain why your wraiths, protected by a high-security building, got attacked!"

It _was_ slightly an excuse to get away from the impossible task."Do you retain any information in that skull of yours, Moordryd?" Word snapped, becoming frustrated. "A month ago, I explained that the idea of such a complex disease being natural is ridiculous! I said that it takes a highly intelligent human, or even more intriguing, a _lifeform,_ to cause all this! And still you haven't found our suspect!"

"But there's Dragon City Security everywhere!" Moordryd shot back, pulling up one of his old arguments. "It isn't easy pulling off these things, especially finding some random person!"

"I don't care!" Word roared, and he glared at Moordryd furiously, causing his son to step back. "How dare you deny what you can do. Despicable, utterly despicable. Are you uneducated? Well, stop acting like you are! You're a sickening example of crying shame! You can't do anything right, and when you try, you make yourself worthless. Do you know what you are? You're a disgrace, a complete, utter disgrace! You can't even comprehend how complex this virus is! Idiocy!"

He turned away sharply, his eyes focused back on his monitors. Moordryd stared at the back of his father. This horrible, sick feeling inside him ebbed like a wound. Just like all the times Word had berated him harshly on everything he was bad at, failing to see a positive side in anything at all, for his whole life, it was almost too much to handle.

And then it all exploded.

"Yeah?" Moordryd retorted. His voice had a hysterical edge now. "Yeah, well, can you explain to me _how?_ Because apparently, I'm not _smart_ enough, or even _good_ enough for you! When will you give me a chance? Huh? You've _never_ given me a chance, and up to now, I can't take it anymore! It's ridiculous! I struggle so hard to do everything you want me to do, and do I get a reward?! No, nooo, I don't. In fact, _I'm_ doing _everything!_ You, you're doing _nothing!_ _Nothing!_ You just ask me to do your work constantly and _that's _all I get! It's 'do this, Moordryd', 'do that, Moordryd', 'you're a disgrace to the family, Moordryd'!"

He continued glaring at his father's back. "Well, _you're _the disgrace! It's all about you even though you don't do a scale-scraping thing!"

He paused, waiting for what was coming at him. His father looked like a statue, an emotionless, pathetic one. "Say something!" Moordryd cried – challenged, his tone almost desperate. "Say something already! Were you even _listening?_ Is that how much I don't matter to you and your own wants?"

No answer, no movement. Moordryd groaned and shook his head, burying his face in his palm, but a part of him felt…relieved, relieved that finally, he expressed what he was hiding away, what he wanted to say for so long, but never had the courage to.

Well, not anymore.

He turned around and started walking towards the doors.

It was then that he heard a rather pained shriek from behind him. Moordryd looked back snidely at his father, ready to remark something.

Word.

Word Paynn was the one who had made a rather pained shriek. His knees were buckling, and his eyes were squeezed shut. His hands clutched the sides of his head. "Moordryd…security," Word hissed, struggling to talk. "Check it, _now!"_

Instinctively his son stepped forward, before Moordryd realized what he had just let off his chest, despite what was happening right now. "Do it yourself," Moordryd replied, stepping back and looking at his father coldly.

Word finally lost tension and started gasping, gulping in air like he'd just been underwater for a long amount of time. He glanced at Moordryd suspiciously, angrily, and Moordryd, not wanting to fail anymore, simply grinned back.

He failed once again as Word immediately crumpled to the floor and another shriek, this one from a dragon, filled the air.

"Security report immediately to the control room, my father's not breathing and one of the wraiths is glitching again! Father?! _FATHER!"_

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	12. A Horrible Vision

**Twisted Shadows**

**A/N: **Told you very soon. By the way, things pick up a LOT in this chapter. I wanna hear back from all you guys on what you think is gonna go down, and how I'm doing after five years. Thanks! :)

In terms of timeline and canon - Wyldfyr was assumed to be a girl when this was written, before we all found out she was actually a he. Also, this was some time before Season 3-ish. I think. It was before Moordryd found the Shadow Booster amulet for sure. Excuse those things kindly, please.

* * *

_Pathetic._

Moordryd stood outside the Dragon City Medical Center, Decepshun standing next to him. _Really pathetic, you moron, _he berated to himself. _First you go tell him off, and next thing you know, it turns out, he wasn't listening! Now, you'd expect that, but not like _that! _Then_ _you choke the word "Father" like that whole speech didn't mean anything and you begin panicking...and what in the name of the Magna Draconis was that all about anyway?_

Moordryd gritted his teeth. _He collapsed many times,_ Moordryd continued. _On account of staying in that control room of his all the time, and not getting that much sleep. But it didn't take _thislong_ for him to wake up. And…and just why am I worrying about him?_

His eyes narrowed. _No, I'm not worrying about that fool! He didn't listen to a word I said! He _never_ does! Instead, he was too busy focusing on his monitors, or his plots, or his precious wraith dragons of his…idiot! I _hate_ him! I – _

He realized now that he had clenched his fist, and his fingernails had dug into it so hard that marks were left behind. "Enough of this," he said, more comfortable somehow by hearing his own voice. "Here's another issue we have to deal with, Decepshun; another of my father's wraith dragons suffering this virus."

Decepshun looked up with peaking curiosity. This definitely would mean that the control gear rumor would make no sense at all anymore – if control gear, especially wraith control gear, could be infected, and twice now.

After Moordryd had run over to where Word had collapsed, he realized that it was another wraith dragon that had cried after and had been infected. The gear glitched the same way as the other instance, the controlled dragon appearing and then disappearing, flickering like a dying light bulb much to the terror or Moordryd and Paynn Incorporated's security. The wraith's shadows had copied its movements as it had reared back and let out another piercing scream…

"Father was right," Moordryd mumbled. "This _isn't_ natural. None of our wraith dragons ever got infected by this virus, until now. And _if_ there is really a person doing all this…" He paused. "That's impossible. No person could get through the Paynn Incorporated building that stealthily and slip away from our sight that easily, especially with the jacked up security. But what about if – no, no. The virus can only infect dragons, not humans."

"Exactly!" a voice piped up.

Moordryd blinked. He turned to see Parmon Sean, of all people, exit the building, along with Lance, Artha, Kitt, and their dragons. All except Lance's dragon, for which Moordryd forgot what the mini-brat's dragon's name was.

"What are you doing here, Moordryd?" Kitt smirked, folding her arms.

"None of your business, stable brats!" he snapped, glaring at them. "I guess I should ask you the same. Does it have to do with _why_ the mini-brat's dragon isn't here with you pipsqueaks?"

Lance glowered at Moordryd, betrayed slightly. "Yeah, and I can clearly see that you have Decepshun with you, Moordryd," Artha retorted angrily, nodding at Moordryd's black dragon. "So obviously you aren't here for your dragon getting checked up. Why are you here?"

"Why are you poking your nose in it, stable brat?" Moordryd snarled, fingernails digging into his palms again. "It's not your business, so get lost!"

"Artha, we better go," Parm started, looking rather cautious. "I don't think we want to upset Moordryd right now…"

"Yeah, listen to your friend, the geek," Moordryd sneered.

Parm's eyes narrowed. "You know, I know something that you know, Moordryd," Parm muttered under his breath. "Want me to tell them what happened to your father?"

Moordryd opened his mouth to yell at him but Lance caught the last bit. "Father?" he said. "What about Word?"

"Nothing about my father, you little insect," Moordryd growled, advancing towards the redheaded child as Beau and Cyrano came to attention.

"Get away from him, Paynn!" Artha yelled, stepping forward and shoving Moordryd.

He didn't intend for Moordryd to fall down and hit his head on the ground. Decepshun snarled at Artha and was about to attack, with Beau growling back, just as Moordryd jumped up and kicked Artha's stomach, causing him to stagger, but not without a retaliating punch directed at Moordryd's arm.

"Stupid stable – " Moordryd hissed, lunging at Artha.

"Not again, break it up, _break it up!"_ Kitt cried, grabbing Moordryd while Parm had hold of Artha. Beau grunted disapprovingly at Decepshun, who simply sneered back. Kitt shot Moordryd a fierce glare. "Whatever it is you don't want us to know about, fine. We'll stop bothering you. The nurses at the front desk are checking on other people and dragons, which they shouldn't be doing right now, so if you stop now, they won't suspect anything when they get back to the front desk."

"And why should I take orders from _you?"_ Moordryd yelled.

"Because if you don't, Paynn is not just gonna be your family name," Kitt retorted.

"We don't want any trouble with you right now," Artha said, calming down. "We've got way too many issues…"

"While you make such a big deal over nothing!" Lance finished.

Parm gulped, quickly seeing the error of Lance's sentence and just where this would be going. "Lance, Kitt, Artha, let's just…go now," he suggested nervously, releasing Artha slowly and stepping towards Cyrano.

Kitt and Artha all looked up at Parm stubbornly. Parm's expression suddenly hardened in equal strength. "I said now," he ordered, much to their surprise.

Kitt released Moordryd and was magged onto Wyldfyr, while Artha was magged back on Beau and Parm and Lance on Cyrano. "Stupid stable brats," Moordryd muttered as they walked off around the building corner.

Decepshun snorted in agreement. She suddenly stiffened, caught off-guard by some presence, looming over them. It was faint, but at the same time, it wasn't a friendly presence she was detecting…

She crept forward and peeked around the corner where Beau and the rest of the others have disappeared off to. She only glimpsed the shadow of the red and blue dragon. It stretched out to the right, showing his movements, and the stable brat's movements as well. The shadow of Artha seemed to look forward, then at his left, making it seem as though the shadow was staring at her.

A bit unnerving, yes, but now she was being paranoid. It was simply a matter of illusion.

"What is it now, Decepshun?" Moordryd said, walking up to his dragon and peered from the corner, trying to find out what she was looking at. All he saw were a few garbage cans, plus some garbage spilled around. A few light poles placed on the right side of the Dragon City Medical Center, and a shadow of the stable brat's dragon stretching to the right as well, disappearing at last…

Moordryd froze. Something was wrong here.

It was Decepshun who helped him out by stepping forward and having her shadow cast to the left. _What?_ Moordryd thought, thrown off as he realized what was wrong. _If there's light against an object from one direction, it throws a shadow in the _opposite_ direction…not the _same_ direction!_

- - -

The same presence Decepshun felt seemed to bring up the Penn Racing's dragons' attention as well. Beau stopped short in his tracks and growled, his head jerking in all directions while Wyldfyr and Cyrano's eyes shifted around. "What is it, girl?" Kitt asked, patting the side of Wyldfyr's head.

"The dragons are onto something," Artha observed, cocking an eyebrow. "Must be something bad, because Beau's acting restless – whoa, hey, Beau!"

The dragon spun around sharply to look behind him, but there was no sign of anybody following them. Still, Beau had detected something…it didn't feel right, and it felt oddly familiar…_disturbingly_ familiar.

"Beau?" Artha said, a bit nervous now. "What in the Magna Draconis is going on?"

Beau exchanged glances with Wyldfyr and Cyrano, who started speaking to him. "I wonder what they're talking about," Lance mused.

"Wouldn't we all like to know," Kitt sighed, resting her elbows on her saddle and placing her head upon her hands.

"Maybe Mortis knows one or two things about this!" Lance said. "I mean, he knows a lot! You can guarantee that!"

"It's probably nothing," Parm replied. "Maybe it's just dragon instinct, or being paranoid. When it seems rather quiet and deserted around, you instantly get this odd premonition about being stalked or observed."

Kitt shook her head. _"All_ the dragons being paranoid at once?" she implied. "Sorry, Professor, but your theory doesn't seem to make sense."

Parm chuckled sheepishly. "Well, okay, then, let's see if Mortis has a clue or so," he said.

"Sounds like a plan," Artha replied. "Only Mortis doesn't seem to know better than we do."

"Oh." Parm looked rather dismayed. "But wait, he _might_ have a clue, or some fragment of what's happening, whether be it the virus occurring, or what presence Beau, Wyldfyr and Cyrano detected."

"Then let's go to Mortis already!" Lance yelled, becoming impatient.

- - -

_It can't be…well, it could've been something else…_

Mortis groaned and placed a hand on his head as he staggered upwards weakly, using his staff to balance himself. _Yes, something else…it's probably nothing,_ Mortis continued pondering. _However..._

In the Ancient Order, he was taught how to learn to detect a very old and dangerous presence, with a vision once the presence came. Word was also trained in such methods as well, and it took years and years for them to learn such an ability. _But was this really necessary?_ Mortis thought frustratingly. _Must I undergo pain if this should happen?_

But it did happen. That meant only one thing.

A soul from three thousand years ago was here, in present day Dragon City. But that couldn't be. How was it possible? Mortis tried to stand up, but at that moment he heard voices.

"Mortis!"

That was Lance. "Mortis, what happened?" Lance questioned, running over and helping Mortis stand up.

Mortis blinked. "I – " he started, but then stopped. They shouldn't know about what he experienced; it would put their lives at risk. The Dragon Priest finally said, "I tripped."

Lance stared up at Mortis oddly. "You…you tripped," Artha said, also surprised at this.

"Yes, I tripped," Mortis responded. "I was pacing, and I was clumsy enough to trip over my own staff while I was lost in thought about our virus situation."

Parm, Kitt and Artha each exchanged dumbfounded glances. "Artha, remember when I told you how you must find out _who_ is causing all these infections?" Mortis said, hoping to get them onto a new subject.

Artha blinked. "Wait, who?" he stuttered, deciding to ignore Mortis' very suspicious excuse. "Uh, heh, I thought you meant _what._ I took it as a little slip of the tongue. Even for a wise Dragon Priest like you, hey, everybody makes mistakes."

"And it _was_ a slip of the tongue…up to now." Mortis sighed. "I believe now that this virus has become too complex to be natural."

Everybody was on alert.

"How?" Parm wondered.

Mortis regained his composure as he waved his hand. "A large multitude of dragons have been infected. Several of them have already lost their lives to this virus," he explained as the VIDDScreen popped out and appeared with statistics based on compiled research. "But the dragons which have been under critical condition died at different times and in somewhat different ways. One lasted only a few moments after he got infected, and another lasted three whole days before passing away. The breakouts seem to keep level, only increasing at some times, but not decreasing."

"So?" Kitt said. "That usually happens with most virus-caused diseases or pandemics."

"Ah, I see what you're saying!" Parm cried. "Also, the situation itself is rather complex and confusing. I mean, gear that cannot be detectable of infection, gear suddenly becoming infected during mag-procession…but I know other dragons with gear magged and _not_ becoming infected! It seems like…it seems like a matter of choice!"

"What? But even other viruses, infections and diseases have those problems!" Artha protested. "It just makes no sense."

"Sense doesn't matter anymore," Mortis said firmly. "I know that somebody is up to this, and you must beware of this presence!"

Wyldfyr suddenly snarled at the last word. "Presence…" Artha muttered, then glanced at Mortis, an eyebrow arched. "And how do you know about this?"

"Trust me, Artha," Mortis pleaded. "You must. I can't explain why, but you must listen to what I say!"

Artha frowned. Right now, he was rather suspicious – no, _extremely suspicious_, but Mortis…Mortis was hardly wrong. Something that got on his nerves once in a while. "Fine," Artha simply said. "Let's change the subject, please? Like, what's up with you, Parm?"

"What?" Parm wondered. "What are you talking about?"

"The whole issue with Moordryd back then," Artha explained. "You know, about Word?"

"Okay, after I tried investigating our virus issue, I walked past this door, and…" Parm looked down. "I saw Word Paynn, unconscious and hooked to some equipment."

The four plus three dragons who were listening had their attention completely taken in now. "The only thing was that he seemed to be in a terrorized state," Parm continued explaining. "He was saying some things in his sleep, rather desperately, about somebody getting back, away from him, about something impossible, about danger…"

Mortis gripped his staff tightly. "Those were in his sleep!" Kitt scoffed, folding her arms. "Probably a nightmare."

"Why was he unconscious?" Mortis asked, his tone more serious now, startling Artha, Kitt, Parm and Lance. Mortis' voice rose to a level most describable as demanding. "Answer me!"

Parm shrieked and backed away. "I-I-I really don't have a clue, Mortis!" he stammered quickly, trembling. "I mean, all I did was see Word in the Dragon City Medical Center! If you want other humans, I saw a few who broke their bones or are ill with some sickness unrelated to our dragon virus, but..."

Artha glared at Mortis. "What is up with you right now?" he snapped.

Mortis turned his back on him. "I…I really can't explain," he responded.

"Yes, you can, Mortis!" Artha continued. Beau tried to raise his tail forward, but Artha pushed it away as he pointed a finger towards their mentor's back. "Look at me, Mortis! Look at _us!_ What is it about us that you can't trust enough to tell us?! Clearly, whatever you have to say is really important!"

"We are _not _discussing this any further, Artha!" Mortis suddenly barked. He glanced behind his shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I would like you to find out why this is happening as soon as you can."

With that, he began walking away from them. "Don't walk away from this!" Artha called, stepping forward, only for this time for Beau and Cyrano to block his way. Frustrated, Artha cursed under his breath and headed back towards the elevator.

Lance gazed towards Artha, before he looked towards Mortis' direction worriedly. Kitt placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go," she said. She rolled her eyes. "Obviously Mortis doesn't seem to have any idea about this issue either."

Lance nodded ruefully. How he _wished _he knew what was bothering Mortis these past few days, and why it was bothering him.

- - -

Already, Mortis was starting to panic. If Word had seen the same thing he had seen, and suffered worse, then this presence was just as dangerous as what they were both supposed to fear the most. _It's not the Hydrag of the Seas, or Emperor Armeggaddon,_ Mortis thought. _Someone just under his level, like Gary the Lethal, or Sythe, or the sorcerer Nekkrall…_

Suddenly, images began to flash into his mind again, and Mortis gritted his teeth as he quickly slammed his staff into the ground to steady himself.

A protective seal was shattered as what looked like a deep hole pulsated with sickly, dull black draconium energy. A dark, shadowy figure, with tattered clothes and worn out armour was clambering out, pushing aside what looked like a large dragon skeleton...

The vision swiftly vanished. Mortis stood rigid in complete horror, gasping and panting. _I should have known! _he realized. _What have I done?! I _must_ warn them about this!_

Mortis spun around to tell Artha, Parm, Kitt and Lance the truth, but they were already gone.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
